


My Constant

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Marauders' Era, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 143,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first war with Lord Voldemort is constantly getting worse; people are dying left and right, dementors are attacking people on the Death Eaters' orders, and nobody knows who is trustworthy anymore. Lily Evans, in her seventh year at Howarts, does not want to be a part of the war - but some things are unavoidable. Book 7 disregarded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Sometimes I wonder if I could have made it through my seventh year at Hogwarts without my friends.

Sometimes I wonder if I could have made it through my seventh year at Hogwarts without a certain bespectacled boy whose sole purpose previous to that fateful year was to annoy the hell out of me.

Sometimes I wonder how I made it through my seventh year at Hogwarts at all.

My seventh year at Hogwarts was not even remotely similar to anything I had in my mind at the end of my sixth. Although I knew, of course, of the war going on around us, I did not expect to have it affect me personally. I did not expect to have it hurt me the way it did. I did not expect to change so much during the summer, nor did I expect any of my friends-or enemies-to be so mentally, emotionally, and physically altered by the time we returned to school.

Divination, however, has never been my strong point.

As my life changed beyond recognition, so, too, has one thing remained constant, something I had never expected. We all need a constant in our lives; some people choose drugs, alcohol, or worse. A certain tousle-haired boy remained the one thing that was constant in my life; he, too, changed immensely, but the fact that he could still bring a smile to my lips at almost any time, that fact remained constant. No matter how much he irritated me, he still made me smile every now and then, and that was what kept me sane.

Yes, James Potter, the boy who, during the previous six years at school drove me absolutely mad, was the one thing that kept me from losing my sanity.

That seventh year at Hogwarts, that fateful seventh year, during which so much happened-the war with the Dark Lord, Voldemort, was at its most terrible, or so we thought. People were dying left and right, and we were stuck at school.

James was the one affected worst by this. Being the type of man he was, the stubborn, almost foolhardy, hero type, he was the one who screamed (until I was sure he was about to burst a blood vessel in his vocal cords) at Dumbledore to let him out of the school. He was the one who picked the most fights with the Slytherins he knew were Death Eaters or sons of Death Eaters. James was the one who said to me, "Evans, don't you  _ever_  try to punish me for fighting a Slytherin, because we've got to catch them all and try to teach them a lesson before  _they_  try to kill us."

At the time, of course, I disagreed. James Potter should not be taking it upon himself to kill all the Slytherins, Death Eaters or not. After all, I told myself, they were _students_.

My summer was a terrible one; horrible things happened to my family. During the school year, something still worse happened, if that was even tenuously possible. Something that made me realize that it's not all about who is a student and who is not. It's not all about school, and it certainly isn't all about keeping the Slytherins who tore my family apart safe from James Potter.

No. It's about fighting. Not fighting to keep yourself alive, but fighting to keep those you care about, those you love, alive. Fighting not for victory-for in a war where both sides have so many casualties, how can there be victory?-but for the triumph of coming out alive with your best friends, your family, and the love of your life by your side. Fighting not to stop evil, but to keep it at bay, for evil could never quite be eradicated; even Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time, admitted it. Fighting, not for what was safe and easy, but for what was right.

James Potter, the one constant in my seventh year at Hogwarts, was the one to teach me that I had to fight. He was the one that inspired in me such a desire to fight. Without him I might have given up on fighting; I might have given up on life. But he convinced me, eventually, that I mustn't let Voldemort win. I mustn't let his gift for spreading hatred, animosity, and death, overcome me.

My seventh year at Hogwarts was the most dangerous and the one during which the most grave and terrible things happened. It was the year that changed me, whether for better or worse, I could not say. But one thing I am sure about is that my seventh year at Hogwarts was the most thrilling, the most exhilarating, the most tiring. With the war that I was desperately trying to stay out of until I was forcefully thrust headfirst into it, the new Head Girl responsibilities that I was barely ready to take on, the classes growing steadily harder, and the approaching N.E.W.T.s, I was hardly getting a moment's sleep per night, but there were times when I did not want to sleep, times when, although I was, of course, tired, I could not sleep. There were times when it seemed I had insomnia at its worse, times when even one of Slughorn's best sleep potions could not keep me dormant for much longer than a few hours. There were catnaps of course; I would not have been able to go on living had it not been for those catnaps. They kept me sane and kept my mind ready to tackle any problem that hit me, until one problem hit me just a little too hard and the only person around answered my obvious cry for help, the cry for help that was disguised as exhaustion but was really far worse, for it is my opinion that the slight case of depression that hit me was not nearly as insignificant as a slight weariness that I never really got over, the only person who answered my cry for help was James Potter.

The summer before my seventh year, even the closest of my friends changed. Alice Lawrence got engaged to Frank Longbottom, an Auror-in-training a year our senior. This forced her to take part in the war; Frank quickly rose in the ranks and became one of the top Aurors, which of course also made him one of the most targeted Aurors. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were clever, in a terrible way: instead of trying to directly hurt their targets, they hurt their loved ones. The entire school year, my other best friend and I kept a close watch over her. Though seemingly timid, Alice makes some very rash decisions sometimes, and we both thought she might try to leave school to be with Frank. Marlene McKinnon, more commonly known as Marly, was involved in the war even more than Alice; there was a Muggle massacre near her home in Portsmouth, one that she helped to force the Death Eaters back in. Of course, this made her a target, especially since she nearly killed one of the Death Eaters—Avery.

I noticed a difference in the Slytherins too. Now that the war was more dangerous than ever, they seemed to care less and less about getting detentions or having points taken off of their house. Of course, James was the same way, except that he wasn't picking fights with people because of their parentage. The Slytherins—the children of the Death Eaters, mostly, like the young Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and some who were planning to join but were not from a Death Eater family, like Severus Snape and Regulus Black—were attacking Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and "blood traitors"—in other words, everyone in the school except for half the Slytherins. (Honestly, they can't  _all_  be pureblood, can they? I'm sure at least half of them are half-blood.). The once over-competitive Slytherins who had fought so hard to beat Gryffindor at Quidditch and at the House Cup were now uncaring; it was as if these matters were too trivial for them to waste time and energy on. I must have taken two hundred points or more off of Slytherins who got into fights either as a distraction for something else or to actually hurt someone, but none of them seemed to care. Each and every one simply shrugged it off and walked away. They took their detentions and seemed to see them as only a minor annoyance, whereas the previous two years each time one received a detention, he would howl in protest until my ears hurt.

Even the Marauders, four boys who had annoyed me and amused me for all my years at Hogwarts, changed. All four of them grew far more serious; the pranks that they played grew few and far between in times when we could all use a laugh. Sirius Black threw even more reproachful glances toward the Slytherin table, where his brother, Regulus, and his cousin, Narcissa, both sat; both were known to be Voldemort supporters. Narcissa's boyfriend, Lucius Malfoy, who had left school three years previously, was most definitely a Death Eater. Peter Pettigrew became even more scared than he had been before; his beady, rat like eyes were forever twitching from one person's face to the next, as if trying to see who was trustworthy and who was not. Remus Lupin became more withdrawn and tense by the day; every time someone tapped his shoulder, he started. Every time there was a mention of werewolves in the  _Daily Prophet_  he would look guiltily at his toast, as if Fenrir Greyback attacking innocent Muggles was Remus' fault.

The Marauder to change the most was, needless to say, James Potter. After that summer, he never again teased me the way he used to. He flirted sometimes, but it was more to take his mind off the war than anything. James seemed to grow years older that summer; we all did. His immaturity of the previous year had disappeared and was nothing more than a mere memory. During the summer, he went through too much for a seventeen year old to bear; his heart seemed to have hardened, and he was forever hidden behind a mask of confidence, a false smile plastered on his face, one that hardly ever seemed to reach his eyes. Those eyes, the eyes that had, in previous years, shown me that he was flirting, that he was joking, or that he was actually pained by my constant rejection, were now cold and hard. The only thing visible in them was a shadow, one that you had to look hard to see, but was definitely there. It was this shadow of pain that first made me go to him when I needed comfort the most; it made me want to comfort him, which, in turn, took my mind off of my own pain; it was this shadow that made me fall in love with James Potter.


	2. One

It was time to go back.

After two months almost completely cut off from the Wizarding world save for a few letters from Alice and Marly and the  _Daily Prophet_  that I couldn't trust anymore, with those rubbish filled stories, it was time to go back.

I stared wistfully out my window. There was a melancholy air about the house; not surprising really, what with all that happened in the past few months. Things that I wished had never happened; things that are all my fault.

Yes, it  _was_  my fault that Death Eaters arrived at my home in mid-July to kill me. Yes, it was my fault that I wasn't home at the time-I had taken to walking around Little Whinging at night, despite my better judgment. It's never a good idea for a seventeen year old girl to be walking around alone at night, but the fact that I was a Muggle-born-or, in their words, a  _Mudblood_ -and, if I do say so myself, a very talented witch, made it that much worse because of the war.

Mum told me not to go out that night. She  _told_  me it was dangerous, that I might be raped or worse. It didn't end up being dangerous to me but it hurt my mum.

My mum. The person I had looked up to for most of my life. My mum.

Let me start at the beginning.

It had been a pleasantly warm afternoon in mid-July. I had been receiving my  _Daily Prophet_ , but the murders in it didn't seem so important to me. They were mostly just someone found dead, often with a Dark Mark over their home. I had thought it wouldn't reach me; I had thought only people who were actively involved in the war died.

Too bad I was wrong.

I had decided, on that beautiful day, to go for a walk as I had done every day since returning home. The letters from Alice and Marly were growing increasingly vague, and despite promising to write every day, I had only gotten three letters from Alice and two from Marly. This had aggravated me-I had always hated the summer holidays; being away from the Wizarding world for too long made me feel very left out. And of course, the  _Daily Prophet_  was full of rubbish. Sometimes I couldn't make out fact from fiction and it made me want to jump on my broom and fly all over Britain-and parts of the rest of the world, too-to figure out which was which. Anyway, I had been feeling stuffed up in my house, so I decided to go for a walk.

After walking through Little Whinging for fifteen minutes and buying an ice cream in a nearby shop, I decided to start back home. It had already gotten dark, and there had been a slightly ominous feeling in the air.

By the time I had reached my house, it was all over. By the time I had reached my house, she was already dead. Dad had been crying over her body; Dad never cries. Never. Not even when his mum died, he didn't cry. Mum cried, but he didn't. He stayed strong through it all.

But not this time. This time he had been sobbing; he had broken down, his body shaking with grief I hadn't known what was going on-Mum was on the couch, apparently he'd brought her there-and he had just been standing over her, crying.

"What happened? What's wrong?" I'd asked, but I had known. I had known, subconsciously, since I had felt sick halfway through my ice cream cone.

"Your mum-she's dead," he had whispered. When he had turned to me, his face had been slashed in more than one place.

Thinking back on my mother's death, I realized that my family had-dare I say it?-gotten lucky. Usually whole families were killed. I wondered why my father hadn't been killed until he told me about Dumbledore arriving and fixing everything in a split second's time. I had missed everything, absolutely everything. Which meant it was my fault.

My fault that my mother was dead.

It was my fault. I had as good as killed her. If I had been there on that day, if I hadn't taken that walk, I could have defended her against Death Eaters, or I could have Apparated to Dumbledore, or I could have done  _something_ , but no-all I had done was eat my ice cream.

Dumbledore, upon finding out what had happened, insisted that I come to school early and stay there for the time being. But I had refused. I told him about my family needing me close by; he offered to have them come, too, but I still refused. I had never outright refused to listen to a teacher like I had on that day, but it was something I had to do. After all, I was hardly going to leave my family like that.

It was my fault that my mother was dead.

The thought kept running through my mind, interrupting my thoughts, no matter what I thought of. Just watching TV or reading a book made me think it. I tried on multiple occasions to immerse myself in classics by Jane Austen, but every time I opened up to page I had left off on, all I could see was my mother's dead face.

It was my fault that she died.

Nothing could distract me from it. Not even spellwork. I spent hours practicing the spells in the spellbooks Alice had bought me the previous Christmas, and even though I did learn a few new and useful spells, I still blamed myself.

It was my fault, my fault, my fault.

Even the books from Flourish and Blotts didn't distract me. I read and reread my Potions book; I memorized still more spells; I learned to do half the spells I knew nonverbally. Still, nothing would help me. Every few minutes the thought passed through my mind almost carelessly, making me stop whatever spell I was trying out halfway through.

By the time I reached the end of the day on August 30th, I had given up on trying to distract myself. My trunk was packed with everything I would need for the school year; my ticket to the Hogwarts Express was on my bedside table. Tomorrow I would be waking up early to meet Marly and Alice in the Leaky Cauldron; two hours later, we'd Apparate to King's Cross and board the train.

Staring out the window, looking forward to the next day, I'd finally be able to get out of the house. Despite the nice bit of spellwork Dumbledore had put on the house to keep it safe, I noticed something coming toward me.

An owl. It had to be. And the closer it came, the more I recognized it as Marly's screech owl, Terenzi. Thinking it was probably a letter to make sure I came the next day, I took the surprisingly short note and read it.

_Lily,_  
I'm so sorry! I'm not going to be able to make it tomorrow-you have no idea what's happened here. Things have changed, really badly. Alice should be there with Frank. See you on the train.  
Love,  
Marly 

What? She was cancelling? Why?

I reread her letter to see if I could make out any hints, any clues that might tell me why couldn't come, but nothing. As far as I could tell, there was no hidden message. But it did seem as if something bad had happened to her. Why hadn't she elaborated?

Feeling thoroughly miffed, I crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it carelessly at my bed. I didn't care about neatness anymore; I was beyond caring about something so trivial, after what happened to my mother. I placed my head in my hands.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be at school with everything back to normal, with James Potter being an idiot, with Marly dating more boys than I could count, with Alice going on about how wonderful Frank was, with the teachers loading us with homework, and even with the Marauders pranking everyone. All I wanted was everything to be the same as it had been the previous year, the best of my years at Hogwarts, during which I had befriended the Marauders-well, three of them. Potter was still constantly asking me out, and though sometimes I knew he was joking, it was still annoying and therefore got in the way of a possible friendship.

Where was Marly, right now? What was she doing? Who was she with? Was she in danger?

 _Stupid question,_  I scolded myself.  _You know she's in danger. We're all in danger._

Why couldn't she make it to the Cauldron if she could make it to the station? Maybe she was going to be doing something important near King's Cross? Her parents were, after all, Aurors.

"Lily, Dad says you have to eat something," said a voice from the doorway.

I turned. Petunia stood there, her bony arms crossed over her chest. I knew she blamed me for Mum's death, just as I knew she was jealous of my magical powers.

"Tell him I'm not hungry," I replied. My voice was hoarse from disuse; I had only been speaking in the past few weeks to do spells, and quietly then.

"Tell him yourself," she snapped. "I'm not your messenger pigeon."

"No, Petunia, you're my messenger horse," I replied, my voice equally snappish. Lately I was like a rubber band that was pulled too tightly; stretch me just a little bit more and I would snap.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, glaring at me.

"Exactly what it sounds like," I responded, glaring right back.

"At least I'm not the cause of my own mother's death!" she shouted, her fists clenched at her side.

I froze. My heart was pounding loudly in my chest; it was all I could hear, aside from Petunia's heavy breathing.

"Fine!" I said loudly. " _Fine!_ "

I snatched up my trunk and train ticket and Disapparated on the spot, reappearing in front of the Leaky Cauldron. I walked inside.

"Can I have a room for the night, Tom?" I asked the bald barman.

"Certainly, Miss Evans," he responded, giving me his familiar grin and demonstrating his uncannily good memory for names. "Would you like one on a floor with some of your fellow seventh years?"

He pointed at a group of Hogwarts students sitting in a corner, sipping grimly at some liquid that I could tell wasn t butterbeer. Included in their group were James, Sirius Black, Alice, Frank (who seemed to be off duty), and the Prewett twins, Gideon and Fabian, who graduated two years ago.

"Er-I guess so," I replied, nodding slightly. Why were they all looking so grim? Yes, the summer had been bad, but surely not  _that_  bad. My summer had almost certainly been worse than theirs; none of them had lost a parent, had they?

I set that thought aside as I followed Tom up to room ten. He set my trunk down at the foot of the bed and asked me if I needed anything. When I quickly shook my head, he nodded and walked off. Frowning, I looked around. The room was darker and dingier than I had expected; the Leaky Cauldron was usually perfectly spotless. I supposed it was because of the war; there hadn't been nearly as many people down in the pub as usual, which meant Tom probably had a lot less money for housekeeping.

After fingering my wand in my pocket, just to make sure it was still there, I opted to go and see what the group of friends and acquaintances were doing in the pub. Slowly I crept down the stairs, not wanting to disturb anyone who might be asleep, and walked back into the bar, where Frank was talking in a low voice.

"Erm-hi," I said, joining them but not sitting down lest I be thought to be annoying and interfering. "Mind if I...?"

I looked around at them; they all looked terrible. Frank had scratches and bruises all over his face. When he lifted his drink, I saw that his hands were also covered in cuts. Alice looked like she hadn't slept in weeks; her round face was paler than usual; her blue eyes bloodshot with dark circles beneath them. Sirius looked much the same as she did except for his black eye. The Prewetts were in terrible condition; Gideon-or was it Fabian? I never could tell-had several long gashes crisscrossing his face, and although Fabian (Gideon?) had no marks anywhere that I could see, he was coughing badly and each one brought up more blood. James looked to be in best condition; his face was a little pale, and he looked tired, but when he saw me he managed a weak smile that didn't quite reach his hazel eyes, which looked far older than seventeen.

"If I join you?" I finished finally, looking sadly at them. What had happened? Maybe I had been wrong; maybe they  _had_  suffered more than me.

The group exchanged a glance that told me they were skeptical.

"How do we know it's really you?" Fabian asked finally.

"Because—" I said, staring at my feet. "I don't know. Ask me something."

"Who did you like in second year?" Alice asked me, frowning. The frown seemed etched into her face, somehow; there were lines of worry around her eyes.

I blushed; surely she could have asked me something-anything!-else?

"Well, it was back when I was stupid and twelve," I said conversationally, "before I got to know him."

I shot James a dirty look before spitting out his name.

"It's her," Alice said wearily.

"It most certainly is," James confirmed. "No one else could say my name with such  _venom_."

For a moment, he almost seemed like his old self again, but then he sighed and shook his head wearily.

"So, what-what happened?" I asked them after a short and awkward silence.

"What didn't happen?" Frank replied, an answer that wasn't really an answer.

"Well," Sirius muttered. "None of us got married. Frankie and Alice got engaged, but no one got married."

"Other people did," said Gideon in a hollow voice. "My sister-Molly, you know her, red hair like Lily's-she married Arthur Weasley a few years ago, and now she's pregnant with her fourth child. People are eloping all over the place-they're scared they won't have time to marry otherwise."

"Arthur Weasley's a good guy," Sirius told the Prewetts. "He's probably a good father. Better than I would be, anyway."

"Then again, Sirius, most people would," Alice told him. She sipped some of her drink. She and the other five were drinking something that smelled suspiciously of Firewhiskey.

"Aren't you guys a little young to be drinking something so strong?" I asked James and Sirius uncertainly.

James shot me a dirty look.

"Age has nothing to do with it, Evans," he said shortly. "And we're legally allowed to drink it now, anyway."

"No one ever said wanting to get rid of some of the tension was illegal, did they?" Sirius snarled.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I knew I had angered them; they seemed so quick to anger, so quick to snap, the same way I had been earlier with Petunia.

James didn't meet my eyes as he replied, "I'm sorry, too."

"We shouldn't have snapped at you," Sirius said quietly, tipping back his head and draining his cup. "Anyone want anything? Evans? Some water, perhaps? Or is it too strong for you?"

He smirked at me as he stood up and walked to Tom for a refill.

While he was gone, I turned to Alice and Frank.

"So-what's been going on since school ended?" I asked.

"Everything," Alice said. There was a dead look on her face as she repeated it. "Everything, Lily."

"People dying left and right...dementor attacks...people missing from their beds in the mornings...entire Muggle families wiped out-you know what we mean, Evans," James told me. "It's all in this worthless rubbish of a newspaper."

He slapped his copy of the  _Prophet_  on the table so hard that Frank's Firewhiskey sloshed out of its cup.

"Sorry," James said quietly.

Frank shook his head and quickly Vanished the spilt Firewhiskey.

"But if it's rubbish, how will I know what's true?" I asked logically.

"They've got the general fact in there," Sirius said, sliding back into his seat. "It's just so mixed with fiction that you can't tell what's real and what isn't anymore."

"Dementor attacks are the worst," Fabian said. "I hate coming into a house after a Death Eater raid, or even during one, and finding a woman sobbing next to her soulless husband."

"No, I hate the massacres, when they use the werewolves," Frank disagreed. "Especially the ones like Greyback, who like the blood of humans even when it isn't full moon."

"Those are definitely the worst," Gideon said. "Coming into a home...the people in it torn to pieces...all the children who never got to live their lives...all the parents who are never going to see their children grow up..."

"Wait-Death Eater raids? Werewolves attacking on nights other than full moon?" I asked incredulously. "Just what's going on?"

"A war, Evans," James said quietly. "A war."

As I retreated to my bedroom with Alice, who said she didn't want to leave me alone, I thought about that. No one would win this war. No one  _could_  win this war; I knew that Death Eaters had died; only the previous year, Lucius Malfoy's father had been killed by an Auror. I knew that innocent Muggles had died; my mother was only one example. And good witches and wizards must have been killed; almost every day there was something in the  _Daily Prophet_  and even though James said it was a load of rubbish, that didn't mean there was no truth in it at all.

"How was your summer?" I asked Alice, and immediately regretted it. Her summer must have been terrible, what with worrying about Frank all the time.

"Oh, it was alright," she said vaguely, not looking at me. A split second later, she threw her arms around me and started to sob loudly.

"It's okay," I said, patting her back absently and wondering what could have possibly happened to her, to have her break down like this. Alice had cried before during school, but never had she thrown herself at me as if in need of nothing more than a hug.

"No, it's not okay," she whispered, clinging to me. "It's not, Lily, because I haven't been writing to you, and Frank's been in so much danger, and I've just been sitting at home, not doing anything until he came home, and I haven't been studying or sleeping or-or-or  _anything_ , Lily, because it's all so terrible, and just look at us, look at all of us, even you look terrible-" Alice stopped talking for a moment and gasped. "Lily-I thought it was just us-in this world...but the Muggles...they've been having a hard time, too-did anything-I mean, are you...is your family...?"

"My mother's dead," I said in a hollow sort of voice.

Alice gasped and threw her arms around me once more.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

"You were all-I don't know. Other things seemed more important than me."

"Lily, I'm so sorry," she whispered. The first tears since my mother had died sprung to my eyes.

"She died, Alice-Death Eaters killed her," I whispered, clenching my fists. "And it's my fault."

"Your fault?" Alice asked disbelievingly. "It is bloody well  _not_  your fault!"

"Yes, it is, Alice," I said. "If I wasn't a witch, my home wouldn't have been a target. And if I had been there, I could have stopped it."

"No you couldn't have," she said quietly. "When a Death Eater wants to kill, he kills, regardless of anyone who stands in his way."

"I could have done something," I told her, swiping angrily at my eyes with my sleeve. I didn't want to cry. I wasn't going to cry. The Death Eaters weren't going to make me cry again.

"Lily," she whispered. "Oh, Lily. And I thought I had it bad."

With that, she hugged me again and didn't let go until there was a knock at our door. We exchanged a glance.

"Who could that be?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

I shrugged. "Maybe one of the boys?" I suggested.

"Alice, Lily, it's us," said Sirius's voice. "Me and James."

"Come in," I said, sitting on my bed and leaning against the wall, my arms and legs crossed.

The door opened and the two boys walked in. James's face was still a mask; by now he even had a slightly fake looking smile plastered there.

"What is it?" Alice asked suspiciously.

"Nice pajamas," James said, smirking at me, his eyes looking slightly less in pain.

I looked down; my pants were black with red hearts that said, "I'm hot," on them, a gift from Marly the year before. She had meant it as a joke, but they had been the first pajama pants I'd pulled out of my trunk.

"Thanks," I mumbled, blushing and looking back at Sirius.

"We wanted to know if you were okay," he said finally, looking directly at me as he said it.

"What?" Alice asked, sounding surprised. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well, for one thing, Evans here has been crying," James says. His voice has a hint of concern in it.

"Well? What happened to you two?" Sirius demanded. "We haven't had time to talk in a while, Evans."

"Talking to you usually includes the words, 'Detention for a week, Potter and Black!'" I replied, smiling slightly.

"It does indeed," James said, sitting on my bed beside me and leaning against the headboard, his eyes closed. Our closeness made me tremble.

"So what happened?" Sirius said, yet again.

"What happened to you?" I retorted.

"I asked you first," he said.

"I'm not the one with a black eye," I responded.

"I'm not the one crying," he snapped.

"Yeah, but I don't  _really_  want to know anything," I pointed out, lying through my teeth.

He bought it: his face fell. "Good point. Well, I beat up my brother."

"I thought you were living with James?" Alice asked.

"Nah, my uncle died and left me a good bit of gold so I bought a house. But anyway, I was at Grimmauld Place-that's where my parents live, disgusting prejudiced bastards-I was there to pick up my gold, and my mum was trying to force me to give it to the family. So I started shouting at her, and Regulus got into it, and he couldn't use magic because he's only sixteen, so he tried to beat me up. He got in one good punch before I Stunned him, Summoned my money, and Disapparated. My dear old mum wasn't too happy with me. Your turn."

"I went for a walk one day, came back and my mum was dead," I replied, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it as if it was an anchor that would somehow stop me from crying again. "And it's my fault because I'm a witch and that's why my house was a target and I wasn't there to save her."

"That's terrible," James said, and for the first time I saw true emotion in his eyes. The shadow in them seemed to flicker for a split second before settling back there again, his mask barely slipping from its position over his face.

"It's not your fault," Sirius said, almost instantly.

I looked away. I didn't want their pity; I didn't want anyone's pity. I wanted Mum back, back here with me, sitting next to me, telling me the story of how she and Dad met, years ago, in school.

"Of course it's my fault," I said softly. "Of course it is."

I suddenly realized that the pillow hadn't stopped me from crying; I could feel the wetness on my cheeks, but at that moment, James reached over and brushed the tears lightly away. Stunned, I looked at him; he looked shocked at himself and immediately flushed as the door closed. We both looked toward it; Alice and Sirius were gone.

"I'll kill her," I said immediately, grinning.

"Looks like they want us to get together," James said softly. After a moment, he added, "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked.

"For-last year. And fifth year and all the years before that. Sorry for being so damn annoying. I shouldn't have tried to force you to go out with me."

"It was...entertaining," I replied, smiling slightly and standing up to end the somewhat awkward conversation.

James stood up too, walking silently toward the door and opening it. Alice and Sirius fell in, obviously having had their ears pressed to the door trying to hear what we were saying.

I chuckled; even James smiled a little, and this time it seemed genuine. And for a moment, the grave things we were talking about only a few minutes before seemed forgotten.

But only for a moment.

  


**A/N:**  Please bear with me. I wrote this chapter six or seven years ago and I'm working away at finishing this fanfic right now. Not bad for a seventh grader, eh?


	3. Two

"Lily, wake up. Lily.  _Lily._ "

I moaned and pushed away the hand that was shaking me awake.

"Five more minutes," I begged, burying my face in the warm pillow.

"Lily, we're going to miss the train!  _Wake up!_ " Alice insisted.

"What?" I glanced at my clock. It was ten o' clock, meaning I only had an hour to get ready and get myself on the train. I sprang out of my bed. " _Shit,_ " I muttered, dashing into the shower.

I had never been a late sleeper; at Hogwarts, I had always woken up at six and gotten ready for school then, even if I hadn't gone to bed until midnight or later. Ever since my mother's death, I had been sleeping rather poorly, leading me to sleep longer when I actually did slip into dreamland.

Once I had finished my shower-in record time-and gotten dressed in Muggle attire, I joined the others in Fabian and Gideon's room.

"Ready?" asked Frank. "We'll Apparate to King's Cross, drop you four off there, and then Apparate to the Ministry for work."

"Right," Gideon agreed.

His brother coughed, made a face at the drops of blood, and said, "On three. 1. 2. 3."

I spun around and, after a split second, was on Platform Nine. I looked around; Frank and Alice were holding hands and hurrying toward me; James and Sirius were running over to the barrier; Fabian and Gideon waved to us and Disapparated.

As Alice and Frank approached, I started toward the barrier with my trunk. Quickly I ran through it to meet James and Sirius on the other side. It was my seventh time doing it, but it still amazed me how easy it was to walk through what seemed like a solid brick wall.

A moment after I slipped through the barrier, Alice and Frank appeared. I boarded the train with James and Sirius as Alice and Frank started kissing.

"Alice, come on!" I shouted. "Three minutes left!"

Frank let go of Alice and pointed at the train; Alice started to leave, turned around, and blew a kiss to Frank.

"Alice, one minute!" I yelled. Frank ran up to Alice, gave her one last kiss, and then pushed her toward the train; a moment later she was clutching my hand as I hauled her onto the Express.

"Where's Marly?" she asked when we were both fully on the train.

"I don't know-I haven't seen her," I replied.

"Let's find her," Alice suggested.

I started to follow her just as James grabbed my arm. I turned around, frowning.

"What is it this time, Potter?" I asked.

"Head's meeting, remember?" he reminded me.

Oh, yeah. I had almost forgotten, but we were the Head Boy and Girl this year, meaning we would probably be sharing the Head's dormitories and spending loads of time together. Yay.

"Right," I said, looking apologetically at Alice.

"It's fine," she said, shrugging it off. "I'll go find Emmeline Vance, shall I? She should know where Marly is-they live pretty close to each other, don't they?"

Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes were best friends and fellow seventh year Gryffindors; both were very friendly. Emmeline's mother was an Auror, her father a Healer, and both of Dorcas's parents were Ministry officials.

I waved Alice off and followed James into the prefects' compartment, where several nervous looking fifth years were standing.

"New prefects?" I asked kindly.

One, a pretty Asian girl that I recognized as being on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, nodded.

"Names, please," I said, as the compartment door slid open and a group of seventh and sixth year prefects stepped in. I looked around; everyone that was supposed to be was present except for the Slytherins.

"Where are the Slytherins?" James asked, frowning as he voiced my thoughts.

"No idea," I replied. "Let's wait for them, shall we? And while we do, everyone introduce yourselves, I don't know you all."

The Ravenclaws were Xuan Lee and Ryan Chang (fifth years), John Boot and Jane Brocklehurst (sixth years), and Tommy Edgecomb and Diane Carmichael (seventh years). The Hufflepuffs turned out to be Damien Caldwell and Rachel Smith, Jack Zeller and Susan Macmillan, and Calvin Whitby and Sherry Klein. The Gryffindors were Kevin Abercrombie and Laura Bell, Jason McLaggen and Sammy Spinnet, and Remus Lupin. I had, of course, been a Gryffindor prefect the previous two years.

"The Slytherins still aren't here," Sammy pointed out after we were all silent for a few minutes.

"I suggest we begin," Ryan said.

"Fine, then," I said decidedly. "Potter?"

"Did you say my name?" James asked, springing to his feet, wand out.

I looked around at him. "Have you been  _sleeping_ , Potter?"

I couldn't really blame him; honestly, he had been through so much that summer that he needed to get some sleep.

"Sorry," he said, looking at his hands. "I've been tired. I'm really sorry, everyone," he repeated, looking at all the prefects. "Right. So what do you want me for?"

He still had not pocketed his wand. I decided to ignore it.

"I wanted you to talk to them, but apparently you're too tired, so-"

"I'm fine," he said shortly, his mask of confidence and arrogance still perfectly in place. He flicked a hand almost casually through his hair. "So. Prefects. Rules are, you patrol on the nights you're assigned and hand out detentions to rule breakers. Fifth and sixth years can't dock points; only seventh years can do that. Oh, and for those of you who are new, your responsibility is not only to keep your enemies in line, but your friends as well. That means if your friends break rules and you know about it, make sure to punish them."

He was smirking slightly as he said it, proving to me that he didn't believe a word he was saying and didn't want them to believe it, either. I was betting that Remus had given him the speech at some point and James had simply found nothing to say. Raising a sceptical eyebrow, I looked at the prefects.

"Times are dangerous," I warned them. "If you see something-Death Eater meetings, people planning to kill someone-make sure you tell a seventh year, Potter or I, or a professor. You could save lives by doing it."

"Now, then," James said. "Shall we choose patrol nights?"

"Alright, then," I said. "Potter and I have to patrol every night, but you will all be assigned nights that will change every month. Xuan, Ryan, Damien, Rachel-you have Monday. Jack, Susan, Tuesday. Remus, Sammy, Jason, you guys have Wednesday. Tommy, Diane, John, Jane, Thursday. Kevin, Laura, Sherry, Calvin, Sunday. And then I'll split up the Slytherins for Friday and Saturday."

"Is there a reason they get the two worst nights?" Calvin asked me, grinning.

"They're far too late," I replied, smiling slightly. "Now, here are the passwords for your houses. I expect you to escort the first years to their common rooms and dormitories."

"On that note," James said. "You may leave."

The prefects filed out of the compartment. The moment the door slid shut, James asked me, "What do you think happened to the Slytherins?"

"No idea," I responded. "Maybe they forgot?"

"All six of them?" James said, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. I think it's because they have more important things to do than come to these meetings."

"What things? Since when do school kids have more important things to do than school?" I asked indignantly.

"Don't be thick, Evans, it doesn't suit you. Of course there are things more important than school," James said shortly. "And three quarters of the Slytherins think that working for Voldemort is."

I flinched at the name and he scowled at me.

"I would have thought you, of all people, wouldn't be afraid to say it," he snarled.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked coolly. "I'm a normal seventeen year old witch."

"A witch who's had her mother killed!" James shouted. "Doesn't that make you want to fight him? Doesn't it make you want to-I don't know-defy him?"

"No," I replied. "It makes me want to hide so he won't hurt my family anymore."

James glared at me and heaved a sigh, walking out of the compartment angrily. I rolled my eyes; what was  _his_  problem?

But even as I thought it, I knew what his problem was, and I knew what my problem was, and I knew what  _everyone's_  problem was.

Our problem was one and the same: the Dark Lord. And now James wanted to fight him, which would definitely lead to his death and the deaths of the people he loved. The way my being a Muggle-born had led to the death of my mother.

A moment later, I followed James out of the compartment, seeking out Alice.

"Hey, Evans," a familiar and icy cold voice said from behind me.

I ignored it.

"I  _said_ , 'hey, Evans,'" the voice repeated. The voice belonged to Matarus Avery, the son of the Death Eater Marly had nearly killed.

"And I didn't say anything," I replied, turning on my heel and meeting his cold, celery green eyes.

"But you should've, Mudblood," Avery snapped. A smirk appeared on his face. "Where are your friends? No Potter to save you now, I see."

"I don't need Potter to save me," I retorted, sounding braver than I felt. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can. Would you like to prove it?"

"Not really," I said indifferently. "I don't need to duel just to prove I can."

"That friend of yours is going to get herself killed," he whispered, stepping closer to me. "Especially if she and her nosy parents don't stay out of the Dark Lord's business."

"Keep away from Marly!" I snarled, aware that my voice was very loud. My hand was in my pocket and clenched around my wand, but Avery got there first.

" _Crucio!_ " he cried, but just as the red light started out of his wand, a rather heavy human body threw itself on me, slamming me to the floor of the train.

Avery swore as I managed to get my own wand out and pointed it at him. As Potter and Avery began to duel, I silently placed the Full Body-Bind on the latter. Appearing shocked, his limbs froze and he fell to the ground.

"Nice bit of spellwork, Evans," James told me with an almost-smile.

"Thanks," I said. "But I could have handled that myself. Don't start a duel with anyone again."

"Don't start a-what the hell do you mean, ' _Don't start a duel_ '?" he asked incredulously. "Evans, in case you've forgotten,  _he_  started the fight."

"But you joined it," I argued. "You could've stayed out of it. I would've just left or blocked it or something."

"You didn't look like you were going to do much," James retorted. "You weren't expecting an Unforgivable, and you know it."

"Potter, just don't start any fights with Slytherins!" I snapped. "Or I'll have to dock points!"

James opened his mouth as if to argue, closed it, and spun around, leaving the compartment angrily. I scowled after him.

"Good riddance!" I shouted irritably.

He either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me. I tended to think it was the latter, James being the arrogant prat that he was.

"Lily?"

I turned again.

"Oh!" I said, slightly surprised to see Remus Lupin with a slightly pained look on his face. "Remus!"

"Don't worry about him," he said, pointing in the direction that James had gone. "He's-been through a lot. And he's right, in a way."

I glared at him.

"He's not right if he wants to go around attacking students," I informed him. "I've been through a lot, too, but you don't see me dueling with people."

"Don't be unreasonable, Lily," Remus said. "You know he didn't start that fight."

I sighed; of course he was right. "We'd better leave before he can move again," was my response as I pointed to Avery.

"Good idea," he agreed. The two of us left the compartment together.

"Have you seen Alice or Marly?" I asked him as we wandered through the train.

"Oh, yeah, they're squished into our compartment," he replied. "I'll take you, c'mon."

We kept walking until we found the Marauders' compartment. Inside were not only Peter, Sirius, Marly, and Alice, but also Emmeline, Dorcas, and (to my dismay) James.

"Lily!" Marly shouted almost immediately upon seeing me, throwing herself at me. I nearly fell backwards as I hugged her back tightly.

"I missed you!" I cried. "How was your summer?"

Yet again, I realized that this was the wrong thing to say. Marly's eyes darkened and she looked away.

"Sorry," I muttered. "You don't have to..."

"Yes, I do," she replied, pulling me into a seat. "Now move over so I can sit next to you."

As I was already on the edge of the seat I was in, squished in next to Alice and Dorcas, this was impossible, so Marly slid onto Sirius's lap.

"Get off me, McKinnon," he said, though he wrapped an arm almost protectively around her waist. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"My summer wasn't as good as it could've been," she replied quietly.

"Neither was mine," I said. "But you go first."

"My sister Caley was killed during a Death Eater raid. By Avery. Matarus's dad. I almost killed him. I didn't even use magic, I just threw myself at him and hit every inch of him I could reach. The rest of the Death Eaters Disapparated, but I wouldn't let him leave. I just kept hitting him until he was bruised so badly he couldn't tell right from left."

Marly stared at her hands glumly. "Lily, I almost killed him. I almost  _did_  something like that to a fellow human being."

"He deserved it," James snarled. He was standing, staring out of the window at something no one but he could see. "He killed your sister. He deserved worse than what you gave him. He killed an innocent sixteen year old."

None of us responded. For a moment there was silence, and then I spoke quietly.

"I went out for a walk and came home and my mother was dead," I murmured.

"No," Marly whispered. "No, no, no. Not her. Not your mum."

"Yes, my mum," I replied, feeling my eyes well with tears.

Marly knew and loved my mother; she had been at my house over the summer year after year and had spent long nights talking to her. My mother had adored Marly as well; after Marly left for her own house, my mum would talk to me about how wonderfully brilliant she was and how I had chosen such wonderful friends.

Marly turned her head and buried it in Sirius's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and silence fell again.

I had liked Caley. Her hair had been blonder than Marly's, but they had looked just the same, both with light brown eyes and fair skin. Caley had been intellectual, like me, and we had spent hours discussing books. I had recommended to her several Muggle books, and she had recommended to me several Wizarding books. She had been innocent. She had never hurt a fly; she hadn't deserved to die. I deserved to die more than she had. Without even noticing that I had been crying, I swiped away my tears.

"Caley didn't deserve to die," I whispered, clenching my hands into fists.

"Neither did your mother," Alice said, hugging me tightly.

"My mum and dad were killed," Emmeline murmured, looking out the window. "The same day Caley was. I couldn't do anything. I just stood there and watched them die, and then I-I broke down. I started screaming at them-Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery-they just stood there, laughing, and then they put the Cruciatius Curse on me, and I couldn't  _do_  anything, I was just in pain, and then Caley died, and they Disapparated, saying that they had taken too long to kill my parents and that only the McKinnons' kids were at Marly's house, so they had to get back to Voldemort."

This time, I forced myself not to flinch, only stared at my hands and cried.

"See, Evans?" James muttered. "See? This is why we've got to fight him."

"No, Potter, this is why we've got to stay away from him," I argued. "Because if we don't, he'll kill us, he'll kill our friends, he'll kill our families-that's why we've got to keep ourselves away from him."

James opened his mouth as if about to scream at me, but Remus muttered, "James, leave it."

"But she-"

"James,  _leave it_ ," Sirius echoed. As James closed his mouth and returned to staring out of the window, I realized that Sirius was probably one of the few people who could get him to shut up like that.

The rest of the ride passed in silence until the boys filed out to let us change and Dorcas finally spoke.

"My older brother killed a Death Eater," she said, her voice barely audible. "The Death Eater attacked his wife...newlyweds, you know...and he-killed him. We don't even know which one it was, but he did it."

"That's terrible," Alice said. "Is she alright?"

"No, he's dead, and it was a man," Dorcas replied, looking at Alice as if she were mad.

"No, I meant your sister-in-law," Alice said.

"Oh. Right," Dorcas said. "Yeah, I think so. She had a miscarriage, but other than that, she's fine."

"Your brother must be devastated," Marly murmured.

"It splits your soul, you know," Dorcas whispered, buckling her boots. "Killing. It tears your soul in two. My brother tore his soul for a Death Eater. He mutilated himself like that for a Death Eater."

She hugged me back tightly, and it made me wonder if maybe hugs were really a lot more helpful during times of crisis than we all think they are.

We arrived at Hogsmeade Station twenty minutes later and boarded a carriage; ignoring the usual rules (to my disapproval, of course), Emmeline, Dorcas, Alice, Marly, and I all sat together in one carriage. We were silent for the whole ride, each of us lost in her own thoughts.

When we reached Hogwarts and entered the school, Marly announced, "I'm hungry."

Honestly, that girl never stopped eating. I had no idea how she maintained her tiny waist.

"Let's find seats, then," I said, and together the five of us sat at the Gryffindor table. The Marauders sat next to us.

"I want food," Sirius moaned as the Sorting Hat was set on the usual stool. "I don't  _care_  about the Sorting!"

I smirked; obviously Marly and Sirius had certain similarities that led them to become a couple. I didn't know what to say; I simply walked over to hug her.

Marly seemed to be thinking along the same lines; a moment later, she leaned over and whispered something in Sirius's ear. A moment after that they were displaying their affection for each other for all to see. I rolled my eyes, but for a moment, no more than the time it took to blink an eye, I wished I could do the same with the dark-haired Marauder sitting beside me. A split second later I felt revolted with myself.

The Sorting done, Dumbledore stood up and the Great Hall immediately fell silent.

"I hate to start the year on a grave note, but we are living in dangerous times. However, I shan't worry you with that now; for now,  _comen_!"

The school stared at him for a full minute before Marly said impatiently, "Oh, for Merlin's sake, it means eat!"

Marly spoke Spanish, French, Italian, and German fluently; at the end of the previous year, she had been learning simplified Chinese. Marly loved to teach herself languages.

"Food," Sirius moaned, shoving an entire chicken leg into his mouth. A moment later, he spit out several bones; Marly giggled.

"Not hungry, Evans?" James asked me. I turned my head slightly to face him and noticed how closely he was watching me.

"Not really, no," I replied, pushing my plate away. I didn't feel like eating; from the looks on Dorcas and Emmeline's faces, neither did they.

"Eat something," he advised. "It's good for you."

"I don't see you eating," I retorted. "You're just sitting there."

"It doesn't taste right," he replied, looking down at his plate. "Nothing tastes right."

"What-you mean, poisoned?"

"No-I mean-my dad used to make chicken like this," he muttered, his eyes downcast.

"'Used to'?" I repeated. "What d'you-?

"He was poisoned," James said. "By a Death Eater. We didn't even know it was poison at first; not many people do. Don't mention it to anyone, alright?"

"Of course not," I promised. "Is he-is he-"

"Dead? Not yet," he responded grimly. "But it won't be long. The Healers at St. Mungo's can't find a way to keep him alive. Either that or they don't want to."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not like none of the Healers are Imperiused," he said quietly. "Voldemort uses people, he controls them so that he and his Death Eaters don't get blamed. And of course he must have people who're truly loyal to him."

"Why?" I asked, frustrated. " _Why_  is he doing this?"

"He's power-hungry, prejudiced, evil, and just plain psycho," James answered tonelessly. "Not a very good combination, especially when you're clever."

"Potter, Evans, are you two done eating?" McGonagall's voice asked from behind us.

"I'm good," I said.

James nodded; McGonagall frowned and looked at our still full plates, then shrugged and motioned us to stand up. We did, following her out of the Great Hall.

"As Head Boy and Girl of this school, there are certain responsibilities you have," she began. "For example, you should not be seen doing anything against the rules. Miss Evans, I am not worried about  _you_  breaking rules, but Mr. Potter, you must learn to follow her example." Before James could protest, McGonagall continued. "You know you have the right to dock points; do not abuse this privilege, or you will be forced to turn in your badges. Now, after Professor Dumbledore's speech, I want the two of you to meet me at the staff table. There is something I need to tell you."

James and I nodded. McGonagall motioned for us to return to the Great Hall, where the plates were clearing themselves away and Dumbledore was standing up to begin his start-of-term speech.

"To our new students, welcome to our school. To our old, welcome back. There are a few announcements I must make, the first being that we, once again, have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Her name is Professor Saggese. I expect you all to welcome her into our school; she is a spectacular Auror and hopefully will prove to be a teacher that is just as good."

Saggese grinned and waved as the school erupted into applause. A few Slytherins, however, didn't look too happy; apparently this witch had arrested some of their parents and had them sent to Azkaban.

"But, on a less cheerful note," Dumbledore began gravely. "We are living in very dangerous and very terrible times. As I informed you all at the end of last year, there is far too much evil in the world for it to be completely terminated. We must fight with all our might to keep it at bay, for if we don't, it will overcome us. Lord Voldemort has a terrible gift for spreading hatred and conflict wherever he and his followers happen to go. We can mirror him only with love and friendship."

After his speech, he began the usual announcements about keeping out of the Forbidden Forest and not using any of the items on Filch's banned list, but we weren't paying attention. In fact, for the first time in all my years at Hogwarts, the students weren't paying attention to Dumbledore. Instead, they were talking quietly to their friends, obviously about You-Know-Who.

Eventually, Dumbledore finished his speech and sent us off to bed; together, James and I walked to the staff table, for once in very comfortable silence.

"Ah, Potter, Evans," McGonagall said upon seeing us. "Come, I must show you where you are to sleep."

We followed her out of the Great Hall; her stride was so fast that I, being short, or as I prefer,  _petite_ , had to practically run to keep up with her. James, who had grown several more inches over the summer, was fine and walking at the exact same pace as McGonagall, who was taking the customary path through Hogwarts that led to the oh-so familiar portrait of the Fat Lady; instead of going into the Gryffindor common room, however, McGonagall led us through a small corridor. We seemed to follow it for only a few minutes before coming to a portrait of a drunken prince eating a violet pear.

"Septimus," McGonagall said curtly to the portrait before turning to us. "That's the password-septimus. This is where the two of you are expected to live for the rest of the school year. You may, of course, enter the Gryffindor common room at any time-in fact, I believe that in your common room there is a door that leads to that of Gryffindor common room."

With a brusque nod, McGonagall left.

James turned to me. "This place is  _big_."

He was right. Our common room was almost identical to the Gryffindor common room, even though only two people were supposed to be using it. The only difference I could spot was the hardwood door with a gold doorknob, which, when opened, seemed to lead to the Gryffindor common room, as McGonagall had said.

After thoroughly exploring the first room, James and I separated to examine our respective bedrooms. Mine was roomy enough for a desk, vanity, and dresser, things that I had never had for myself when I had lived in the dormitories with Alice, Emmeline, Dorcas, and Marly. My bed was a queen-sized four-poster without the curtains. Inside the closet was another door, this one presumably leading to the Head's bathroom. I opened the door and entered. Sure enough, it was a sparkling bathroom, complete with a slightly smaller version of the prefects' bathtub.

"This is-wow," James murmured, having just walked in.

I blanched. "We're sharing a bathroom?" I asked incredulously. No. We couldn't share a bathroom. It would make it far too easy for him to spy on me while I was in the shower or to get into my room. Hopefully the locks on the doors were anti-Alohomora. "Is Dumbledore mad?"

James looked up at me, a partial smile on his face.

"Some would say that he is," he informed me. "In a good way, that is."

"Don't be stupid," I snapped. "You know what I meant."

"Of course I knew, Lily dearest," James said, his smile widening but never quite reaching his eyes.

"Don't call me that," I said.

"But I must!" he exclaimed. "I must declare my love for you! I must tell you how I pine away for you, how I think of you all day long, how I dream of you during slumber! I must declare to the world my great affection for the wonderful, brilliant, beautiful Lily Evans!"

"Oh, stop it," I told him. "And I really don't want to know how you dream of me, Potter."

He grinned cockily. "Of course you don't. But  _I_  would like to know how  _you_  dream of  _me_."

"I dream of you shutting up and deflating your big head," I said, fully aware that we were flirting and hating it. "But alas, I know that it can never happen."

"Aw, Evans, that hurts my feelings," he whined, his face an exaggerated frown. "It makes me feel sad."

I rolled my eyes and decided that now was a good time to leave and hopefully manage to lock my door so it couldn't be opened by Alohomora. James seemed to read my mind.

"Oh, and you don't have to worry about the doors. They're Alohomora-proof. I tested them."

I shook my head, smirking. Leave it to James Potter to read me like that; he always could.


	4. Three: From James Potter's Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Every three chapters, there is a (usually much shorter) chapter from someone else's point of view; this one is from James's, and there are some in the future from Frank Longbottom, Peter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, and a barely-introduced OC who ends up being fairly important :) Enjoy!

"So you and Evans have to share a bathroom?" Peter asked sceptically. "And you haven't done anything stupid – like walk in on her in the shower – yet?"

"Come on, Wormtail, it's only been three days," I said impatiently. "And she showers pretty early. I think she has sleeping issues too."

"Who doesn't?" Sirius asked gloomily.

"Well, some people deal with pain by sleeping," Remus replied logically. "And some people just can't."

"Me," I told him. "And Sirius, and probably Evans and her friends."

"And me," Remus said, nodding. "Peter though, he sleeps like a log."

"He really does," Sirius agreed. "It's scary. I sit up all night doing homework or talking to Moony while Wormtail just snores."

Peter gave a squeaky laugh. "It isn't my fault I can set aside my stress for a few hours every night."

"Nothing too bad happened to you this summer, did it?" I asked, and even I could hear the slight edge in my voice.

"Nah," he said. "My summer was pretty boring compared to yours."

"Oh, so my summer was 'exciting' and 'fun' was it?" I snarled. My temper, so close to boiling lately, was starting to bubble.

"That's not what I meant," Peter mumbled, not meeting my eyes. I sighed.

"I'm sorry, Wormtail," I said apologetically, running a hand through my hair. "I'm – I'm just really stressed out lately."

"I know, and I don't blame you. It was a stupid thing to say."

"Boys, get to work!" Professor Flitwick told us sharply as he passed our desks.

"Certainly, Professor," Sirius said, flashing him a grin. A grin that only worked on girls.

Flitwick rolled his eyes. "Let's see you nonverbally make this dog fly around the room."

Sirius waved his wand; the dog leapt a few feet into the air and hovered for a moment before crashing back to the ground.

"Tut, tut," Flitwick said. "Cruelty to animals. Do it right, Mr. Black."

"Sorry, Professor," was Sirius's response. "I'm too caught up in your beauty."

"Sirius!" Marly said from behind us. "I thought you were straight!"

"Now you know my secret, Marly," Sirius replied, making puppy dog eyes at the teacher. "I'm deeply in love with our petite professor."

"Now, now, Mr. Black, don't poke fun at my height!" Flitwick scolded, but hid a grin. "And get back to work!"

Flitwick walked to Marly and Lily's desk, where he praised Lily for the ease with which she made her Jack Russell terrier fly around the room. As she did, I couldn't help staring at her. I never could. She had captivating emerald eyes, and her nose wrinkled in the cutest way when she was frustrated. Her chin was mulish and stubborn, and her freckles were adorable. And oh, her hair – how I would have loved to run my fingers through her hair, to tangle it beyond hope, to kiss it, to hold it…

Too bad she hated me.

Well, I wasn't precisely sure that she hated me anymore. She had been civil to me since we had met again just before school had started. She had even admitted that she'd once had a crush on me, which had, of course, renewed my hope that maybe, just maybe, she would one day fall for me again. Then again, many of our conversations ended in arguments, usually about Death Eaters or Voldemort.

"How do you do this spell nonverbally?" Sirius muttered. He was acting the way he always acted when he couldn't do something; it bothered him almost as much as it bothered me, and like me, he would stop at nothing to learn what he was doing wrong and how to fix it.

Now the two of us were uselessly waving our wands around. Sirius's dog fell twice more before he decided to Conjure up a couple of cushions for it to fall on.

"You're doing it wrong," Lily's voice said from behind me as Sirius's dog fell onto the cushions for the sixth time in a row.

"I can bloody well see that!" Sirius snapped. "What I  _can't_ see is what I'm doing any differently from Little Miss Perfect Evans!"

Lily looked slightly hurt, but nevertheless told Sirius the proper way to cast the spell. By the end of class, she had coached him into making the dog fly around the classroom and land neatly on his desk.

"Thanks," he said after his dog flew for the second time. "And – I didn't mean that Little Miss Perfect thing before."

She smiled at him, and despite myself I burned with jealousy. How  _dare_ she smile at him and not me? How dare he make her smile?

"It's alright, I get frustrated when I can't do things, too," she told him. "But make sure you concentrate on the incantation when you do it nonverbally; you can do it alright when you say the spell, you just aren't focusing hard enough on what you're doing when you try it wordlessly."

She turned and walked back to Alice and Marly, grabbed her bag, and exited the classroom with them.

"What was that?" I asked incredulously, turning on Sirius.

"What was what?" he asked, gathering his things.

"The – the apologizing and the – learning from her – and the smiling and – "

"Calm down, Prongs." Sirius looked genuinely surprised at my reaction. "Evans is yours. You know I wouldn't try to take her away from you."

"You bloody well better not," I muttered. I didn't know what I would do if she turned into another Sirius Black fan club member.

"Besides, I like McKinnon."

"A lot?" I asked.

"Well, I don't think I've ever dated a girl so long," he said quietly as we exited the Charms classroom. "And… well… James, the others just aren't like her."

"It's the same with Lily!" I cried. "You all tell me to give up on her, but Sirius, I  _can't_! I've never felt the way I feel about her about, well,  _anyone_ , and other girls just don't compare."

It was true. Every time I saw a girl, I compared her to Lily. Were her eyes as green as Lily's? Was her hair as thick as Lily's? Was her chin as mulishly stubborn as Lily's? Was she as smart as Lily? Did she argue as much as Lily? Did I love her as much as Lily?

Because, yeah, I did love Lily, as much as I hated to admit it to myself or to anyone else. During my sleepless nights, I had done a lot of thinking, and I had finally realized that, yes, I had fallen for Lily Evans; she had me head-over-heels in love with her. The trouble was, I didn't think she would be able to love me back. Sirius and I had pranked her quite often during our years at Hogwarts, and though that had stopped the previous year, she still hated almost everything else about me. She hated the way I messed up my hair, the way I hated Snape and couldn't stand Slytherins, and the way I was so assured of myself. She even hated the way I stood up for her when someone called her a Mudblood. She hated absolutely everything about me. And a few times, during my worst moments during the summer, when I had been so utterly depressed about my father and the state my mother was in, when my mind had stupidly strayed to Lily, I had cried. Yes, I, James Potter, the second most wanted man at Hogwarts, had cried over a girl. Sirius wanted me to give her up; he told me that she wasn't right for me, that she would never like me back, but I couldn't give up. I didn't know why; I just couldn't.

Oh, dear Merlin. I was in love.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews make the world go round. Please keep in mind that I started this six or seven years ago and am still working on the last few chapters. Thanks for reading!**

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	5. Four

"Lily, what is the proper use of shark fins in potion-making?" Alice asked me absently as she scribbled an essay for Slughorn.

I dipped my quill in ink and recited, "The proper use of shark fins in potion-making is to make the drinker more aggressive, and sometimes more sensitive to the scent of blood. But put it into your own words since that's exactly what wrote."

"Right," said Alice, continuing to write her essay as I ended mine with a flourish and set my quill down.

"Finished already?" Marly moaned. "I haven't even got six inches!"

"Everyone knows Evans is seventeen million times better at Potions than anyone else," James said, plopping into the seat next to mine. We were all in the Gryffindor common room, doing homework.

"Except maybe Snivellus," Sirius said, sliding into the seat beside Marly and kissing her on the cheek.

"Leave me alone, Sirius, I need to finish my essay," she said, pushing him just hard enough to get his face away from hers.

He looked falsely hurt. "So you don't want me anymore?" he asked, pouting. "Am I not good enough for you?"

"Oh, no, you aren't," Marly said, very seriously. "Snape told me about your little rendezvous last week."

"He told you?" Sirius asked, giving a false and embellished frown. "How could he? I  _trusted_ him!"

"I heard he was cheating on you with Regulus," James told him solemnly.

"No!" Sirius yelped. "That son of bitch!"

"Who, Regulus or Snape?" Peter asked.

"Regulus," Sirius replied promptly.

"Have you forgotten that that makes you a son of a bitch, too?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius turned to me, all the laughter suddenly gone from his face.

"She is no mother of mine," he said, and something remarkably like hatred sparked in his eyes. "That disgusting, biased  _bitch_."

"You can't  _hate_ her," I said. "She's your mother."

"As far as I'm concerned, Mrs. Potter's my mother," Sirius said. "And don't bring up the other Blacks in front of me again, please."

His tone was one of a forced calm, and I immediately dropped the subject with a simple, "Sorry."

No one spoke for a good hour as we did our homework. It was James who finally broke the awkward silence.

"I think I'm having Quidditch tryouts next weekend," he announced. "And the first practice Monday at four o'clock in the morning."

"Bloody hell!" Sirius protested. "You're going to make all the players wake up at four in the morning? Just because you don't sleep, doesn't mean no one else does!"

"I don't care," he said stubbornly. "Quidditch… you know about Quidditch, Sirius."

"I do," Sirius agreed quietly. "Without it… "

"We'd both go mental," James said, and suddenly I realized that perhaps to them Quidditch was more than just a game. Perhaps it was a distraction.

"Patrols, Potter," I said, jumping out of my seat. "We're late."

"Right," he said vaguely, standing up and following me out of the common room.

The two of us patrolled the hallways almost half-heartedly; neither of us talked at all, which differed slightly from the previous years, during which I had patrolled with Remus; we had been constantly discussing some new charm or spell. With James, I was left to my thoughts, not a very bright idea, as my thoughts had not been exactly pleasing of late. All I could think of most of the time was my dead mother and how it was my fault that she was dead.

"My fault," I whispered, without even realizing that I had said anything out loud. "All my fault."

"What's all your fault?" James asked, stopping and looking at me curiously.

"What?" I said. "Nothing."

"No, seriously. What is it?"

"Oh,  _nothing_. Nothing at all. Nothing's my fault except for my mum's death." My voice was bitter and angry but I tried to keep the emotion to a minimum and my eyes off James's face.

"You're not still on about that, are you?" he asked incredulously. "Of course it isn't your fault!"

"But it is!" I argued. "If I hadn't insisted on – what was that?"

"What?" he asked, looking around and frowning.

"Leave her alone!" I shouted, spotting a fourth-year Gryffindor, Lanie Cortus, cornered by two Slytherins. "What's she done to you?"

"The same thing you've done," Screptum Nott said, turning and glaring at me, arms crossed over his chest.

"What've I done?" I asked angrily.

"You're a filthy Mudblood," snarled Snape. "And so is this bit of dung."

He kicked Lanie, and she cried out in pain. A split second later, James practically flew by me, throwing first one punch, then another, at Snape.

"Potter, stop!" I shouted. " _Leave him alone!_ "

"Never," James snarled, now with Snape in a headlock, " _Ever_  let me hear you call  _anyone_  a Mudblood  _ever_  again.  _Especially_ Lily Evans."

"Get your blood traitor paws off him!" Nott said, aiming a hex at James, who deftly blocked it.

"POTTER, NOTT, SNAPE, QUIT IT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs; predictably, the three ignored me, instead deciding to go into an all out duel. Giving up on the shouting (my throat was starting to hurt), I pointed my wand at Nott and said, " _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

Instantly, he froze. I aimed a Stunning spell at Snape, who hadn't seemed to realize that Nott was immobilized. He fell to the ground, and James turned to look at me.

"Thanks," he said, panting slightly. "Favorite spell, that?"

I ignored him.

"Are you alright?" I asked Lanie, who nodded.

"Thanks," she said quickly.

"Want me to walk you back to Gryffindor tower?"

"No, it's fine," she replied. "I'll manage."

I nodded and let her go back to the Gryffindor common room.

"Now, Potter, to deal with you," I said shortly. " _What the hell were you playing at?_ "

"What?" he asked, taken aback. "I was defending you and that fourth-year!"

"No, Potter, you were fighting," I said coldly. "And you were fighting students."

"Death Eaters!" James yelped.

"Students," I snapped. "Twenty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"What did I do?" he asked in indignation.

"You fought two students," I replied coolly.

James turned away from me, his fists clenched.

"It doesn't matter that they're students," he said in a voice of forced calm. "They are Death Eaters and they are prejudiced bastards."

"They are students," I said firmly. "Whether they are prejudiced or not. And you cannot go around picking fights with them purely because of their fathers!"

"I WASN'T!" James roared, all traces of calm, forced or not, gone from his voice. "I WAS DEFENDING YOU AND LANIE CORTUS!"

"Have you ever thought," I said, and even to my own ears my voice sounded icy cold, "that I don't need to be defended?"

"I have to defend you, Lily," James whispered, and his fists unclenched. He turned around to face me, and something in his eyes stopped me from turning and walking away. "I can't help it."

I shook my head. "Well, you have to. You can't get into every fight you see, and you have to let people fight their own battles."

James grabbed my forearms and held them so tightly that I thought he might have cut off the circulation. He loosened his grip slightly when I winced but didn't let go.

"Lily, I could do that for anyone else," he murmured, and the intensity in his voice and eyes made me tremble. "Anyone but you."

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you have to fight my battles for me? Is it because – is it because you think I'm too – too weak to do it myself? Because I'm not! I can fight, I can hex them as well as you can,  _and_ I can control my temper, unlike you – "

"I can control my temper about anyone besides you," he interrupted, his eyes wanting me to understand. "Don't you get it, Evans? You aren't the same. You're not like the rest of them. I lo –"

He stopped, and something remarkably close to pain flashed in his eyes before he closed them, shook his head quickly, and spun around, then left the darkened hallway.

I myself was not about to continue to patrol after  _that_ , and after all, it had been nearly three hours already. Surely that was enough?

I took a longer route than James had to the Head's common room in order to avoid him, but when I reached it, there was no sign of him.

I curled up in my bed, fully expecting to sleep for at least a few hours, but no such luck came my way that night. Instead, at around four in the morning, I sighed, picked myself up, and started on the Transfiguration essay that was due in two days.

By six o'clock, I had finished the essay and taken a quick shower. Ten minutes later, I was completely ready for my classes. As I realized that I still had quite a bit of time left before I had to get to Double Potions, I decided to straighten my hair, something that I rarely did. Even when I finished, I still had nearly two hours until my first class, so I chose to go to breakfast early.

Surprisingly, I was not the only one there. James was also seated at the Gryffindor table; upon seeing me, he ducked his head and pretended to be absorbed in his porridge. I was not fooled. In fact, being the stubborn girl that I was, I sat down across from him and buttered my toast until I could barely touch it without risk of my hands slipping. Still James said nothing.

"Potter, would you bloody  _talk_ to me?" I asked angrily after I had added what seemed like several pounds of jam to the toast.

"You're going to gain a lot of weight eating that toast," he told me, his face completely expressionless. I felt a stab of anger as I realized that his mask was back into place more perfectly and seamlessly than ever before.

"Who says I'm going to eat it?" I said, setting it down on my plate and taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"I dare you to," he said, his face and voice both completely emotionless.

"No, thanks," I replied, starting on a bowl of porridge that I knew I was not going to eat very much of. "Listen, Potter, about last night – "

"Forget it," he cut me off tersely. "Just forget it. Forget what I said."

"But that's just it," I protested. "You didn't finish what you were going to say."

Because suddenly, I had to know. Had he been about to tell me that he loved me? Surely not… but what else could he have said?

He didn't love me. I knew that much; why would he love me? He didn't know anything about me. Nearly everything I had said to him prior to this year had been either mean, derogatory, or downright rude. Even if he thought he loved me, he didn't. He couldn't. It was this war. It was the way it made people so frenzied and overly emotional about everything; so many people were eloping and then quickly having kids, as if they wouldn't be able to if they waited any longer. I knew that about three quarters of those people barely knew each other; I knew that they, like James and, at times, me, were simply confused as emotions ran high during this treacherous war.

"I wasn't about to say anything," he responded coolly.

"Yes, you were!" I all but shouted. "You were about to tell me that you loved me, which you don't because your emotions are all screwed up because of this bloody _war_!"

James raised an eyebrow.

"You're perceptive," he said quietly. "But any feelings I might or might not have towards you started a long, long time ago, and not as a result of this war."

Leaving me feeling very awkward and uncomfortable, he slung his bag over his shoulder and left, his porridge and toast barely touched. A moment later, people started arriving in the Great Hall. Dorcas sat down in the seat across from me and didn't say a word for fifteen long minutes, during which I finished my pumpkin juice and a mug of coffee.

"What's wrong?" I asked her finally. Although Dorcas had always been a quiet girl, she had always made sure to at least greet me in the mornings at breakfast. Something was obviously amiss.

"My brother's dead," she whispered, and a moment later there were tears in her stormy grey eyes. "He's dead, Lily, and I want to kill whoever did it."

Something in her voice told me she was serious. I reached over and hugged her. "It's alright," I murmured. "It's okay. It's fine."

"You don't think I'm crazy for wanting to kill whoever did it?" she sobbed as my sleeves sank into my porridge. "You don't think I'm a wicked, evil, blood crazy Death Eater?"

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no, of course not."

"Really?" she asked. "Or are you just saying that?"

"Dorcas," I began. "Dorcas, when my mother died I was ready to kill anyone, including myself. I know exactly what you mean, exactly how you feel. I was a heartbeat away from killing the funeral director for saying her name wrong."

"They killed him, Lily," she said quietly. "They murdered him for defending his wife."

"They're evil," I said. "Evil."

When Dorcas had calmed down and more people had come to breakfast a little bit later, the two of us, with the addition of Emmeline, Alice, and Marly, went to Potions.

I had always loved making potions. They were so… so simple, in a way. To make one properly, a person had only to follow the directions in the book before her, but to make one superbly, a person could use some of her own input. Crushing one type of root might produce more juice than slicing, while slicing another would produce more. It was all about using your brain and remembering. Everything about Potions was fact with a dash of intuition, and emotions had nothing to do with it. For me, Potions had always been a type of holiday from reality. For a few short hours, I could get completely lost in my potion, whether it was a Draught of Peace, Felix Felicis, or Strengthening Solution. While James' distraction was Quidditch, Potions was mine.

During that particular lesson, we were starting the Draught of Living Death. According to Professor Slughorn, this potion was extremely complex and difficult, and we therefore had to first research the potion, then do the potion step by step. It was supposed to take two months to make completely, something that Sirius groaned at and that I delighted in. It meant there would be something besides the impending war and James Potter to occupy my restless mind.

I finished taking notes on the Draught and realized that only my partner, the Hufflepuff prefect Calvin Whitby, had also finished. He grinned at me from across the table, and I smiled back uncertainly. There was something in his grin that led me to believe that it was more than just a friendly smile. And perhaps I wanted a little more than just friendship. When I noticed that, I let my smile become ever so slightly more confident as I leaned toward him on the pretence of asking him something about the potion, but really just to be a few inches closer to him. The next table over, James's ink bottle exploded. My head whipped around as Calvin chuckled. I laughed as well as I saw the black ink covering his face, making his skin match his hair. Even Slughorn gave a slight chortle before James hissed, " _Scourgify_."

"What was that, Potter?" Snape asked him, smirking. "Losing control of your magic again?"

"I didn't lose control of anything!" James said, and I could see that Snape had touched a nerve. "My quill just – just knocked over the ink bottle!"

"Right," Snape said. "And it just suddenly exploded all over your face?"

"Shut up, Snivellus," Sirius said, standing up behind James.

"What if I don't want to?" Snape asked.

"Now, boys," Slughorn said, slightly nervously. "Don't be churlish!"

James ignored him and whipped his wand out of his pocket. "Then I'll hex you, Snivellus."

"Go ahead and try, Potter."

"Don't!" I heard myself cry. "Potter, you know he's just trying to get you into trouble, just bloody  _ignore_ him for once!"

"Keep your nose in your own business, Mudblood," Snape sneered.

"DON'T –," roared James. "CALL – HER –  _MUDBLOOD!_ "

I had never seen him so angry. "James, calm down," I said quietly. "It's fine. I'm fine. I don't care."

"He has no right!" James shouted. "No right! He's a bloody half-blood himself! And he's a Death Eater!"

"Boys," Slughorn said, finally deciding to put a stop to the fight. "Stop with this quarrelling. Mr. Snape, I shall have to give you a detention for using such language."

Snape gave Slughorn a very dirty look before slamming his Potions book shut and stuffing it in his bag. Without another word, he left the dungeons.

"That was amusing," Calvin said, grinning at me again. I felt my cheeks grow warm as I smiled back.

"It was, indeed," I agreed.

*

"We need to schedule a meeting," James said carelessly at breakfast the following morning.

I frowned at him. "I'm not going to go out with you, Potter."

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant," he replied.

Oh. Well, I felt stupid now.

"I meant a Head's meeting," he said. "To discuss Hogsmeade weekends, balls, and such."

"Oh," I said. "Right."

He smirked. "And discussing with whom you and I might be on those Hogsmeade weekends and at those balls."

I threw a piece of my roll at him; he dodged it easily and turned back to his friends. Meanwhile, my own friends were giving me a knowing look.

"What?"

"Flirting, are we?" Marly said slyly.

"With  _Potter_?" I asked incredulously. "Honestly, Marly, I wouldn't flirt with  _that_ if it were the last male creature on the planet."

"Right," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Besides," I continued, ignoring her. "I think I might like someone."

"Who?" Dorcas asked, and though her eyes were rimmed with red, she seemed genuinely interested.

And that was when it hit me. Look at the lot of us, flirting and joking and liking boys as if it was the same as always. As if everything was perfect in the world, even though we all knew that of course it wasn't. Here I was, supposed to be mourning my mum like a good daughter would, and I was kidding around with my friends only two months after her death. It hurt me terribly inside, to know that I was getting over her death even though it was my fault. I didn't want to get over it, because getting over it meant forgiving myself, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to do that quite yet.

"Lily?" Alice was saying, almost cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"What?" I said. "Oh – no, no I'm fine."

"So you were about to tell us who you like?" Emmeline said.

I shook my head. "I don't like anyone."

And even though I couldn't see my own face at the moment, there must have been something in it that concerned Marly because she murmured quietly, "Are you really alright, Lily?"

"I said I'm fine," I snapped, and then sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so rude. But really, I'm fine."

She didn't seem to believe me, but luckily didn't pursue the matter.

 _Things have changed, Lily,_  I thought.  _You aren't allowed to live life happily anymore. Your mother's dead and it's your fault._

And even as I thought it, I knew that I shouldn't, I knew that I shouldn't blame myself, I knew that my mum would have wanted me to be happy, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to completely get over it. I didn't think I would ever get over it. I didn't think I  _wanted_ to get over it.

"So are you sure you don't like anyone?" Alice asked as Emmeline's  _Daily Prophet_ owl flew toward her. A moment later, mine landed in front of me.

"Anything interesting?" Marly asked, her rigid tone telling me that she didn't mean something interesting like a celebrity wedding but something interesting like a dementor attack. Meanwhile, Emmeline was flipping to the obituaries.

"Anyone we know dead?" I asked dully. It had become a habit of ours, to check the obits daily to see if anyone we had ever met had died.

"Not that I can see….Hang on."

"What?" Alice asked instantly, grabbing the paper so roughly that it tore in two. "Who died?"

"Avery," Emmeline said. "The Death Eater, not the kid."

I breathed a sigh of relief despite myself. "How did he die?"

"Er – nothing," she said quickly, Vanishing her bit of newspaper. Frowning, I found the obituaries in my own paper, but she shook her head with a sideways glance at Marly. Realizing what she meant, I decided to change the subject. What it was changed to, however, turned out to be a very gloomy subject.

"Seven dementor attacks last night during a Death Eater raid," I said in a hollow voice as I read the depressing headline. "In a Muggle town. Three Muggles and four Muggle-borns were Kissed."

"Do we know them?"Alice asked, flicking through the half of newspaper that she was still clutching as though trying to find the story.

I shook my head. "They were mostly old…although one Muggle-born graduated from Hogwarts last year…her name's not in here, though."

"That's terrible," Marly said. "Why?"

But none of us answered; we didn't need to. There was only one reason Death Eaters would attack Muggle-borns.

Because they were Muggle-borns.

*

For the entire day, most of the discussion was about the recent Death Eater raids; there had not only been the one on the seven Muggles and Muggle-borns. There had also been two on various Wizarding communities; the entire Farnosh family had been murdered brutally. Melaney Farnosh, a sixth year Hufflepuff, had been devastated. She had even gone as far as to spend the entire day on the Quidditch pitch, flying around and skipping all her classes. We had watched her during Defense Against the Dark Arts for a few minutes before Professor Saggese had gotten irritated and magically blackened all the windows.

I later found out that Avery had been found dead; he had been killed two days after Marly had given him a beating, presumably because Voldemort was angry about his not being able to kill all the McKinnons and the Vances.

"Rounds, Potter," I said coldly, walking by him without sparing him a glance at the end of the day. I had, until that moment, been comfortable in the Gryffindor common room with my friends, talking quietly about the recent attacks before Dorcas had reminded me of patrolling with Potter.

"Right," he said, swiftly jumping over the back of the couch he was sitting on so that he was standing right beside me. "Let's go."

"And remember," I said as we exited from the portrait hole. "Do  _not_ pick fights with Slytherins."

James looked like he was going to argue, but then he sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked down a darkened hallway. I hurried after him.

"So did you hear about Avery being killed?" James said quietly as we turned a corner.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice barely audible. "Yeah, I did. And I – I don't know. I'm sort of shocked that You-Know-Who killed him just because the McKinnon parents weren't there."

"Will you  _stop_?" James said angrily, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.

"Stop what?" I asked, stunned. We had just been having a civilized conversation for once, and now he was being his idiotic self?

"Stop saying  _You-Know-Who!_ " he said. "Why can't you just say his name? Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort! It's not that hard!"

"I told you," I said quietly. "I don't want to attract his attention."

"You already have!" James said exasperatedly. "Why else would he come to your house?"

"You mean," I said, my voice dangerously low. It was always low before I shouted. "That I attracted his attention so he sent his Death Eaters to my house to kill my mother."

"No – Evans – no," he said, a little desperately. "That's not what I – no, no, no. It isn't your fault."

"But it is," I hissed, my voice even lower. "It bloody well is my fault, and you just admitted it  _yourself_  so don't even  _try_ to deny it!"

"Evans, that's not what I meant!" he said. "I meant that you attracted his attention so he tried to find you so – "

"Digging yourself deeper, Prongs," Remus's voice said from behind James.

Both of us started. "Remus? What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Wednesday, remember?" he said. "I patrol tonight."

"Oh…right," I muttered as James said, "Let's finish our patrols then!" a bit too heartily.

The three of us started walking through hallways, finding two couples making out in dark corners and a group of three fourth year Gryffindor boys that told James how much they looked up to the Marauders.

"Get your priorities straight," I told them as James beamed. "You should want to look up to people like Frank Longbottom and the Prewett twins. Or you'll find yourselves in detention Friday night, too."

"What do you mean, 'too'?" asked one of the boys. "You aren't giving us detention tomorrow?"

"I am," I confirmed. "Sorry, boys, but you've got detention tomorrow at eight o'clock."

The three grumbled about it for a couple more minutes before walking back toward Gryffindor tower. James immediately rounded on me.

"What was that?" he asked angrily.

"They broke rules," I said shortly. "And they get a detention for breaking rules, just like you do. And just because they like you, does  _not_ mean that they get let off of detention because otherwise only Slytherins and me would get punished!"

"You wouldn't, Evans, because you're way too rule-following to get detention," James said. "And what's wrong with only Slytherins getting detention?"

"It's the fairness of it," I argued. "You can't hand detentions to Slytherins and ignore the Gryffindor rule-breakers!"

"Why not?" he asked stubbornly. "They do it to us."

"You don't get it, do you?" I said furiously. "We can't sink to their level, James, otherwise we're just as bad!"

James's hand flew to his hair, making it even messier than usual. For a split second, I longed to push his hand aside and do it myself, but then the moment was over and Remus said, "Calm down, you two. James, she was just following the rules."

James groaned in frustration and stormed off. Remus shrugged at me and followed him. I stood there for a moment before deciding to finish my rounds for the night.


	6. Five

"It's halfway through September and we haven't planned any Hogsmeade weekends yet," James informed me as I entered the Head's dormitories one night. "I think we should do it right now."

"Now?" I asked wearily. "I'm exhausted."

"I have to wake up every other morning at four, so don't even  _try_ to tell me you're exhausted," James said. "Now let's get started."

I scowled at him. "I'd rather not, actually. I'm really quite tired."

"Evans, it'll take us ten bleeding minutes! Just sit down and quit being so stubborn!"

My mother's last words to me had been, "Lily, I really do think it would be a better idea if you stayed home, but you're so stubborn!"

Stubborn. My stubbornness had caused my mother's death.

A wave of guilt swept over me and I bit my lip to keep from crying, from shedding the tears that were, as always, especially of late, so close to the surface of my eyes.

My fault. All my fault. Because I just  _had_  to be stubborn. If I had relented, just that one time, and just stayed home with my family, I could have saved her. I could have, at the very least, figured out how to Side-Along Apparate them to someplace safe-the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks or-or anything, really. But no. I had to be  _stubborn_.

"Don't be a prat, Potter!" I tried to snarl, but my voice came out sounding slightly choked. "And I'm getting my arse into bed!"

"Ah, Evans...Don't get your knickers in a twist over this, it's only ten minutes!"

"Potter, PISS OFF!" I yelled, and this time my voice came out of my throat clearly.

For a split second, James looked slightly hurt, and then he plastered a smile on his face and said, "Blimey, Evans, what a wonderful vocabulary."

"I said  _piss off._ " I turned on my heel and entering my room. As usual, I threw myself on my bed and stayed there for a long time; as was becoming increasingly bothersome, I did not sleep at all. Instead, as usual, I thought about every tiny thing that fluttered through my mind, even the worthless things that made no sense whatsoever.

There was a knock on my door at approximately three-thirty A.M.

"Lily?"

James.

I ignored him; for the second time that week he had made me feel even worse than usual about my mum's death. And all I really wanted-it was terrible to think it, but it was all I really wanted-was to forget about everything that had happened that summer, for everything to go back to the way it had been in early June when everything had been right, when we had all been happy and easygoing, and when my arguments with James had been idle teasing.

"Lily?"

I wanted him to leave. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

"Lily, I'm coming in."

No, he wasn't. I grabbed my wand and pointed angrily at the door, performing every spell I knew to keep him from being able to open it.

"Lily, let me in."

"I told you to piss off, James Potter!" I shouted, but that moment of distraction was enough for James to manage to blast the door practically off its hinges.

"What did I do?" he asked the moment he saw me. "Why were you so upset?"

"Leave me alone! Just leave, Potter!"

"Lily,  _what's wrong_?"

"I'm just a stubborn, selfish bitch, and because of that my mother is dead, and-and- _I just want you to leave me alone!_ "

"It's not your fault she's dead, Lily," he said softly, and despite the fact that he probably knew that if he touched me I would hurt him, he stepped toward me and gently put a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away from his touch and for a split second he looked hurt, but then the emotion disappeared yet again and he backed away.

"Yes, it is," I whispered, and suddenly I wanted him to come closer again, to hug me, to kiss me, to love me the way I knew he would if only I would let him –

No. No, Lily, no. That was the war speaking. A girl didn't hate a boy for six years of her life and then suddenly start liking him. (As I thought this, a nagging voice in the back of my head informed me that I had liked James during first and second year and had a tiny -  _tiny!_ \- crush on him the past two years. I told it to belt up.) And besides, James Potter could not possibly truly like me; it was just the war for him, too; there were so many more desirable girls in the school; he would probably end up with one of them, like Brianna Thompson, a sixth year Ravenclaw with lovely straight blond hair that I would have killed to have, and Stacey Cocuzzo, who had huge light brown eyes that I yearned for because of their kindness.

But James must have seen something about the desire for him to hug me in those eyes, because the next thing I knew he had his arms wrapped around me and I was actually letting him hug me, actually returning the embrace.

And that was when I realized that I was crying. Yes, I, Lily Evans, who had, for years, despised James Potter, was sobbing into his shoulder for no reason other than the fact that I was feeling an overwhelming emotion called "guilt" in most English dictionaries but also known as  _culpa, culpabilite, schuld, skyld,_ and probably a lot of other things in languages that I did not speak and that Marly had not tried learning.

Almost without realizing it, I pulled away from James, wiped my eyes angrily, and said, "Thank you, but I would like to go to sleep now."

"Whatever," he said shortly. "I have to go meet Sirius anyway."

He left my room without meeting my eyes again, and as he walked away I almost wanted to call him back, but it was a feeling that I only felt for a split second, and then I had to cry again.

It was two in the afternoon by the time I had finished my homework and stopped my tears; instead of heading down to lunch (I had not eaten anything since dinner the night before), I sank into the bathtub and let myself soak there for what seemed like forever but was really only about two hours.

"Evans?"

Ugh. Potter.  _Again_ , although this time he was not at my bedroom door. His voice sounded slightly distant to me, as if he was in the Head's common room and looking for me there.

"Evans, all your friends are looking for you."

He must have been shouting if I could hear him from the tub.

"Evans!"

I ignored him, barely registering the fact that his voice seemed to be growing closer, and instead sank deeper into the large bathtub and let myself relax as I had not for what seemed like years but was really only around two months.

"Lily Evans,  _where are you?_ " I heard him say, and I detected a bit of fear in his voice.

How sweet. He was scared for me. I rolled my eyes; that fear had to have been a figment of my imagination.

His voice was coming from my bedroom when he called me next, but as I had before, I pretended I didn't hear him.

"Where are you?"

His voice was now very, very close, as though he was right next to the door leading to the bathroom, but in my state of mind, I didn't even notice.

And then I heard the door open, and James was there, his face extremely pale. The moment he saw me, color returned quickly to his face in the form of a very red blush, and I felt my own face heating up before I screamed, unfairly even to my own ears, "JAMES POTTER, YOU DISGUSTING PERVERT!"

"Why didn't you answer me?" he asked frantically, covering his eyes with a hand. He hardly needed to; the bubbles from the many taps all along the sides of the tub completely covered me, and there was no way for him to see anything. "I thought you were hurt!"

"Leave me alone, Potter," I snapped, and at once he visibly stiffened.

"Well, excuse me for caring about you," he said coldly, and then smirked that extraordinarily annoying, extraordinarily cocky smirk that drove me mad. "By the way, cute underwear."

He pointed at the leopard print thong lying beside the tub. It, too, had been a gift from Marly, who had always loved to get me clothes that would have embarrassed me immensely if I was ever caught wearing them. And of course, it had been the last pair of clean underwear that I could find. I blushed furiously before shouting at him to "GET THE HELL OUT, POTTER!"

This time he waved, turned, and went back into my room, closing the door firmly behind him. I waited to make sure he was really gone, then practically leapt out of the tub and wrapped myself in my towel. A few minutes later, I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped in, first making sure James was nowhere to be seen. I then hid in my closet in case he was still somewhere in my room to get dressed. Once I finished, I stepped out of the closet in plain Muggle jeans and a white tee-shirt.

So I found Alice and Dorcas, who were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Dorcas looking depressed, as she always did lately, and Alice was sprawled on the hearthrug, writing what seemed like a novel on a roll of parchment. She had already written more than a foot.

"Lily!" Alice cried when she saw me. "Where have you been?"

"In my room sleeping," I said, which was only half a lie.

Alice, however, could read me like a book, and she therefore knew enough to raise a skeptical eyebrow, but for once, she dropped it at that.

"Are you alright, Dorcas?" I asked gently, stepping over to her bed and seating myself on the edge.

"Of course I'm not," she said bitterly. "How could I be? My brother's dead, and my brother has always been my best friend, Lily. When I was younger and my parents were-well-sort of abusive, I guess-he was the one that wiped my tears away and healed my bruises. And now he's gone."

Her parents had abused her? I'd never known. I'd never even asked. Suddenly I felt guilty again-all these years with Dorcas sleeping in my dormitory and I had never even thought to ask her about her family life. Now that I thought about it, I didn't know anything about Dorcas, really. Dorcas Meadowes and Emmeline Vance had been like tiny dots on the edge of my conscious mind; they had slept in the same room as me for six years, and yet I had barely ever talked to them; all my attention had gone to Marly and Alice, and, especially lately, myself and my guilt. Now I felt bad about that. Dorcas obviously needed someone to listen to her.

Or, I thought as she swiped at her eyes with her hand, maybe she just needed a hug; a moment later, I was proven right as she looked at me almost hopefully. I gave her the hug and she broke down and cried.

"It's okay, Dorcas," I murmured. "It's okay."

I didn't even realize that Alice had come over to hug Dorcas as well; I was too busy crying myself.

"Threesome? Can I join?" Marly's overly cheerful voice came.

I glanced at her; as usual, she looked falsely happy, but now that I thought about it, who really looked really, truly happy anymore? How could we, really, when everyone that we loved was dying because of a bunch of prejudiced sociopaths?

Something inside me stirred, something I tried stubbornly to deny.

_This is why we've got to fight, Lily. This is what James was talking about._

_No,_  I argued with myself.  _This is why we've got to save ourselves by not fighting. Because Dorcas's brother fought, and look where it got him._

I hated myself for that thought. It made me want to punch myself for thinking that it was his fault that he had died. Of course it wasn't. It was the fault of the Death Eaters, the fault of Lord Voldemort and no one else, whereas my mother's death had been all because of me.

_You selfish prat, Lily, you always have relate everything to yourself, don't you?_

That annoyingly right voice was echoing through my head again, and it made me want to break its noise. Instead, however, I satisfied myself with giving Dorcas a hard squeeze.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled through tears. "I'm sorry I went all-you know-crybaby on you."

"It's fine," I said soothingly. "You have every right."

"Lily's right," Emmeline said, walking over to us and sitting next to me on Dorcas's bed. "Where were you this morning, anyway?"

"I was sleeping," I replied.

"Right," Marly said tartly. "Like you ever sleep anymore."

"How would you know?" I asked, my voice sounding more snappish than I had meant it to. "I don't even sleep here. Ask Alice, when we were in the Leaky Cauldron, I slept for too long."

"That was once. James told me you never sleep. He says you're always up doing homework or reading or something."

"Well, there's a lot of schoolwork!" I protested.

"Not enough for you not to sleep," Alice said quietly.

"And James said you just sit in the Head's common room and do nothing sometimes; he said you just stare at the fire."

"Does he spy on me or something?" I asked angrily.

"He cares about you, Lily," Marly said. "He likes you a lot. I think it physically hurts him when you stay up all night."

"Fine," I said wearily. "I don't sleep very well. I haven't since my mum died. But none of you ever sleep, either. Alice's eyes are always puffy, and so are yours, Marly, and Emmeline, your eyes are always bloodshot, and Dorcas, you're always yawning. And of course James doesn't sleep at all, since he's always watching me not sleeping."

"You're right," Emmeline said, collapsing onto her own bed. "None of us sleep at all. Sometimes we talk, but usually we just lie in our beds and try to fall asleep."

"But you can't," I added, realizing that almost the exact same thing that was going on with them was happening to me. "You can't, because sometimes you're over thinking everything, and sometimes it's just stress that doesn't let you sleep. And sometimes it's just-just visions…"

I stopped, unable to go on.

"Visions of the people you love," Dorcas continued in a hollow voice. "Visions of them  _dead_."

"Or hurt," Alice said. "Or being tortured, or captured by-by  _him_ , and being forced to do his bidding."

"Or even worse," Marly said. "Them  _wanting_ to do his bidding."

We all sat in silence for a minute, staring at our hands. Our discussion seemed to have taken a huge load off of my shoulders, and I let out a long sigh of relief as I leaned back against Dorcas's headboard.

Alice returned to her own bed and signed her letter with a flourish.

"Who's the novel to?" Emmeline asked Alice.

"Frank," I responded, and Alice giggled.

"How'd you know?"

"How d'you think? It's so obvious-who else would you write a bloody inovel/i to?"

Damn. Letters. My dad had no idea what had happened to me. I'd left on such short notice because of Petunia being irritating, but I hadn't even said goodbye to my father. I felt a pang of guilt—which was quickly becoming one of the only emotions that I felt-and jumped off of Dorcas's bed.

"I have to write my dad," I said. "I'll be right back."

I took off back to the Head's dormitories and dashed into my room, grabbing the first bottle of ink and scrap of parchment I found. I left and started to the door leading to the Gryffindor common room-and promptly slammed into James Potter. I probably would've fallen backwards and onto the floor if he hadn't grabbed me by the arms and held me there. I looked up and into his hazel eyes and there was that familiar shadow that was always there nowadays. As our eyes met, I became exceptionally aware of his hold on me, and half of me wanted to scream at him for touching me, but the other half wanted to beg him never to let go-and as soon as I had that thought, of course, I tore myself out of his arms and tried to glare at him, but I could still practically feel his hands on my arms, the heat that spread from my head to my toes and made me want to throw myself at him, to kiss him, to love him-

 _No, Evans, no!_  I scolded myself.  _Don't let the war control your emotions!_

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't see you."

"It's fine," I said stiffly, and scowled as I noticed that my ink bottle had fallen to the floor and broken. "I didn't see you, either."

I returned to my dormitory to get out a new bottle of ink, then managed to get myself to the Gryffindor seventh year girls' dormitory without walking into Potter again.

"What took you so long?" Alice asked absently as I collapsed on her bed.

"I broke the first ink bottle," I said. She looked up at me skeptically, but didn't say anything, so I sat down and quickly scribbled my father a letter explaining that I had left early to buy a few last-minute supplies, and had been too busy to write until now. It was, of course, partially untrue, but what was I to do? Tell him that I blamed myself for my mother's death and that Petunia had honestly not made it any easier?

"Are you finished yet?" Alice demanded as soon as I set my quill down.

I nodded.

"Then let's go send them!"

Why did it seem to me like her voice was way too enthusiastic?

"I want Frank's next letter!"

Oh. That explained it.

"Fine," I said. "Let's just go to the Head's dormitories first so I can put this stuff away."

Alice and I made our ways into the Head's dorms (Alice was shocked at its splendor when she first saw the common room, and even more shocked at the size of the bathroom) and then to the Owlery, where we sent off our letters and Alice slipped on some owl droppings and let out a loud and high-pitched squeal.

"Are you alright?" I asked instantly, dropping to my knees to see if she was okay.

"I-I don't know," she moaned, clutching her leg. "I think I sprained my ankle."

I sighed with relief-I'd thought she might've broken a bone or worse.

"C'mon, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," I said, starting to help her up.

"What are you two doing here?"

Ugh. James.  _Again_. Was he following me?

"Having tea, Potter," was my sarcastic response. "What else would we be doing in the Owlery?"

"That's obviously not what I meant," he said tartly. "What are you two doing here on the  _floor_ and covered in owl dung?"

I started to say something sarcastic, but Alice cut me off.

"Lily slipped and fell and we think she might've sprained her ankle."

I gaped at her as James looked over at me, frowning slightly.

"Well, we'd better get you to the hospital wing, then, Evans," he said finally. "C'mon, let's go."

And with that, he lifted me off my feet, doll-like, and carried me out of the Owlery, Alice following closely on our heels, walking perfectly. She had faked everything-the fall, everything. But how had she known he was sending a letter, too?

 _She must've seen him,_  I thought.  _When I was putting my parchment and ink_ _away and I left her in the Head's common room._

And that was when I noticed that James still had a firm hold on me.

"POTTER, PUT ME DOWN!" I shouted at him, trying desperately to free myself.

"Nonsense," he replied, smirking at me. A part of me wanted to smile back, but I forced myself not to.

But I could not help noticing how safe and warm I felt in his arms.

"POTTER, IF YOU DON'T PUT ME DOWN, I'LL HEX YOU INTO OBLIVION!"

James must have thought I was joking, because he ignored me and continued carrying me towards the Hospital Wing. This was not a very smart idea, as exactly twenty-seven seconds later (yes, I counted), I managed to get my wand out of my pocket and aimed a Stinging Hex at him. Of course, I failed to realize that hexing him would make him drop me and land me on the floor. Which, because for once I was gifted with a bit of good luck, did not give me a sprained ankle, but a very painful wrist injury, which mean that I did not have to be carried by anyone.

"Tut, tut, hexing people in the hallways Evans?" James asked, shaking his head and rubbing the wrist where the spell had hit him. "I'm afraid you'll need to get detention for that."

"Fine," I replied shortly. "You have detention next Quidditch match."

"What?" he said desperately. "Evans-no-Quidditch-you-you  _can't_!"

"I bloody well can," I snapped.

"Fine-I won't give you the detention," he said. "Please, Evans-I can't live without Quidditch."

I glanced at him and, seeing the genuine desperation in his hazel eyes, relented. "Fine. But I'm not doing your detention, either."

By this point in our conversation, we had reached the Hospital Wing, and Alice was still standing behind us, looking mildly amused.

"Well, I'm off to meet the Marauders!" James said, his voice falsely merry. "See you all later! Good luck with your wrist!"

I made a face at his retreating back as Alice caught up with me.

"What was that for?" I said.

"You like him," she said firmly. "You just need to realize it."

"I do  _not_!" I snapped. "Alice, Potter is obnoxious, arrogant, and overly cocky."

"He's not, really," Alice said absently. "Only when he's trying to impress you."

"Why would he try to impress me?" I asked. "It's not as if he has any reason to!"

"He likes you a lot. I think he might even love you. But anyway, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey before that wrist swells up any more."

I sighed and obeyed, showing Madam Pomfrey my wrist. She immediately prescribed two potions and shooed Alice away.

"What did you do to obtain this injury?" she asked, touching it lightly and making me wince.

"It's not that bad of an injury," I said. She scowled at me.

"Please answer my question, Miss Evans."

"I slipped on the owl droppings at the Owlery."

She glanced at my robes, which were, of course, filthy by now. I felt slightly touched that James hadn't cared about this and had picked me up anyways, but then I pushed the thought out of my head and waited for Madam Pomfrey to tell me what to do.

"Right, well, I think you should stay here for a bit, and don't use that wrist at all until tomorrow morning," she instructed.

I nodded; the swelling was already starting to go down and the bruising on it was disappearing slowly. The potions, while disgusting to taste, were obviously working.

"Lie down and keep your wrist elevated on a couple of pillows," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to the bed. I did as I was told, sighing and wishing one or two of my friends could be there with me.

About an hour later, when I was half asleep and staring off into space, my mind blissfully empty for once, loud voices came into the Hospital Wings, voices that were quickly hushed, but still not quiet enough to keep me from hearing.

"And he was just found on the pitch?"

That was McGonagall's voice.

"Yes, just lying there, his head practically split open. But the question is, how did it happen?"

Dumbledore.

"It looks like he was pushed off his broom-but who else was out there?" Madam Pomfrey asked anxiously.

"Only Rabastan Lestrange and Amycus Carrow," McGonagall replied. "But why would they attack a member of their own house?"

So they had attacked a Slytherin … but why?

"A distraction," Dumbledore muttered. "Minerva, send all the students to their common rooms and then bring me Lestrange and Carrow. Poppy, make sure Mr. Black is taken care of. Horace, the school must go on lockdown. Use every protective spell you know-no one must get in and no one must get out."

Black? Sirius or Regulus Black? But-a distraction? For what?

And Dumbledore was putting the school on lockdown? He must have thought it was something serious-otherwise I was willing to bet my Head Girl badge that he wouldn't scare the entire school.

Dumbledore came over to my bed.

"Miss Evans, I expect you were listening?"

I nodded.

"Good. And I expect you can move that wrist of yours by now?"

I nodded again. "Professor, what-"

"If you can round up Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew, Miss Lawrence, Miss McKinnon, Miss Vance, and Miss Meadowes, I shall tell you," he murmured. "Bring them all to my office."

I leapt out of my bed, glanced at my wrist, which was mostly back to normal except for a fading bruise, and pulled my shoes on.

"I'll be there in a minute, Professor."

"Oh, and, Miss Evans?"

I turned and looked at him questioningly. "Yes, Professor?"

"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum is rather tasty."

I stared at him for a minute; did he want me to bring him some gum? I wasn't even sure if I had any-maybe Potter and his friends did?

 _Lily, you idiot,_  I scolded myself.  _It's the password!_

I opened the door to the Hospital Wing and walked out.

And the first thing I saw was complete chaos.


	7. Six: From Frank's Perspective

"Kingsley, have you found anything yet?" I asked my partner, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been a Ravenclaw in my year at Hogwarts.

"Nothing except…"

Kingsley was looking intently at the magazine in front of him.

"This issue of  _The Quibbler_ says that seven Death Eaters are currently living in a deep forest in Albania making potions that are killing the wildlife around them."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly think anything you read in that magazine is even a little bit true?  _The Quibbler_ 's barking mad, everyone knows that."

"Of course I know that," Kingsley said shortly. "But this article doesn't look like the usual rubbish. It seems legitimate."

"This is the same magazine that said you were actually a descendant of Hades come to haunt us," I reminded him. "How can you believe this?"

"I'm telling you, Frank, I think this might be true," he muttered. "Just read it – it seems like it'd be true."

I rolled my eyes but decided to humour him.

"Fine. Give it here."

He handed me the magazine and I skimmed through it. Random phrases stuck out at me:  _Albanian forests…associated with vampires…dead trees…tortured deer…abundance of snakeskin…human body parts…_

"I don't know," I said slowly. "It seems – I don't know…odd. And why seven? Surely if they were making potions they'd only need one or two?"

"I'm not saying it's all true," Kingsley retorted. "I just think it's not completely fictional."

"Well – I guess it does seem truer than the rest of these stories."

I was flipping through the magazine as I said this, glancing at some of the headlines: _Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody: Death Eater in training?; Demons in the Auror Office; Forget He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – The Gorgons are Taking Over; Stubby Boardman – Dumbledore in Disguise?_  and  _The Satyr: Preying On Our Females_. In fact, this story seemed far more likely than Gorgons taking over the world or Moody being a Death Eater – that one made me snort despite the grimness of our situation. He'd as soon be a Death Eater as Lord Voldemort would suddenly fall in love with Fabian Prewett.

"Moody'll thank us if we write this into our report," Kingsley said, wrenching me from my thoughts.

"Good point," I agreed; Alastor Moody was our extremely strict, extremely paranoid Auror trainer. He had made it clear that he did not want two trainees weighing him down, and made us do loads of paperwork. But it was all worth it when we got to see him in action – he was  _amazing_ at tracking down and catching Dark wizards, and even though Crouch had made it legal to use Unforgivable Curses against the Death Eaters, Moody refused to. He was simply that cool. In fact he had, on multiple occasions, instructed us never to use an Unforgivable – he said they lowered us to "their" level. Kingsley and I hadn't had to ask who "they" were. We knew that whenever Moody used that particular tone of voice, he was talking about Death Eaters.

Kingsley hurriedly scribbled a few more lines onto our already overly long report. The problem was I wasn't sure what parts of that report would actually help us to catch Dark wizards.

"Done," he muttered after a good five minutes. "Think Moody'll like this?"

"He hasn't liked our last three," I replied. "Too many Death Eaters he doesn't think he'll be able to catch. Which means they'll attack him."

"Or so he says," Kingsley said with a smirk. "He's quite paranoid."

"I wonder what made him that way," I said quietly. "There has to be something. Moody wasn't born paranoid. I mean, those scars must've come from something."

"And there's a new one every day," Kingsley supplemented. "With all the Death Eaters he catches."

"We're going on a Death Eater hunt with him tomorrow," I reminded Kingsley. "Death Eater hunts" were what we, and some of the other trainees, called the searches for Death Eaters and the raids through their houses.

A feather I knew belonged to Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, appeared in a flash of flame. A moment later a roll of parchment was there as well.

"Message from Dumbledore," I mumbled. It had to be something bad. Otherwise he would've sent it by owl. My thoughts jumped to Alice – was she hurt? Was she – _dead_?

No. She couldn't be dead. No. She  _couldn't_ be. I would've known – and I hadn't. So she couldn't be dead.

"What's it say?" Kingsley asked, apparently not noticing my fear or the trembling fingers with which I opened the letter.

_To the Auror Office,_

_We need your assistance at Hogwarts. Please send me ten available Aurors. I will explain to you what happened once you get here. Please come as soon as possible._

_Yours,_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

"Something's happened at Hogwarts," I replied, my voice shaking. Kingsley looked at me with concern.

"You think it's Alice?"

Kingsley and I had spoken quite a lot about our lives; he had told me about never being able to find a girl he liked, and I had told him about Alice.

"I hope not," I said worriedly. "What do we do now?"

"Find Moody," Kingsley said immediately.

"Find me?" repeated a gruff voice. "What for?"

Leaning against the doorframe was a man with grizzled dark brown hair with grey streaks; he had scars and cuts everywhere on his face. I had never been so relieved to see him in my life.

"Mr. Moody," I said, holding out Dumbledore's letter. "Professor Dumbledore says he needs us."

Moody quickly read the parchment, his grizzled face becoming, if possible, more foreboding as he frowned.

"Longbottom, Shacklebolt, find every Auror you can; at least seven. Meet me back here in ten minutes."

Kingsley and I exchanged looks; we were going with him?

"Finally, some excitement," Kingsley said as we ran out of Moody's office. I didn't reply; I hardly thought that saving my girlfriend from Death Eaters (not that I was sure that had happened) was very entertaining.

We found three more trainees having tea in Auror Cong's office; she was busy writing a report as they took their breaks. Once we explained why they needed to go to Moody's office, they helped us find more Aurors. By the time the ten minutes had passed, we had found twelve, including the Prewetts, and gotten them all to Moody's office. He grunted his thanks and quickly explained what had happened as he made a Portkey; he was one of the few people who could legally do so.

"On my count," he growled. "One."

I put my finger on the old shoe he had used as a Portkey and waited.

"Two."

 _Hurry up!_ my mind was screaming.

" _Three_."


	8. Seven

"EVERYONE, KEEP CALM!" McGonagall was saying; her voice had been magically magnified.

However, very few students were listening to her. Most of the first and second years looked very scared; several were crying. The third, fourth, and fifth years were conversing with their friends. The fearful looks on their faces told me exactly what they were talking about. Some of the sixth and seventh years had their wands out, looking tense and ready to attack. Others looked careless; I couldn't help noticing that most ofthem were Slytherins.

Much of the school was running around madly; a few couples were snogging as though they'd never be able to again. A group of third years were clutching each other as if scared to lose one another. I smiled kindly at them before running as quickly as I could through the mass of students to the Gryffindor common room.

"Sirius!" I said quickly, spotting him making out with Marly on the couch. "Marly! Dumbledore needs us- where're James, Remus, Peter, Emmeline, Dorcas, and Alice?"

"Dorcas, Emmeline, and Alice are upstairs," Marly replied. "James isn't here. I think he said he was going to the Astronomy Tower to think. Remus is in his dormitory doing something or other with Peter."

"He needs to come!" I shouted, almost in hysterics. "Quickly! And Alice, Dorcas, Emmeline, and you two!"

"Why?" Sirius asked, his arm sliding protectively around Marly. "What's happened?"

I sighed, quickly told them the story, and shouted at them to "FIND BLOODY POTTER!" at the top of my lungs, which threatened to collapse from all the screaming I was doing. Ten minutes later, we were all at the stone gargoyles in front of Dumbledore's office.

"Drooble's- " I panted, having just run from Gryffindor tower all the way to Dumbledore's office as fast as my legs could carry me. "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum."

The nine of us dashed up the stairs to Dumbledore's office as quickly as we could. Without bothering to knock on his door, Sirius barged in, finding Dumbledore scribbling something on a bit of parchment. He handed it to Fawkes the phoenix and murmured, "Take this to the Auror office. Make sure it finds the right people."

"Professor?" I said timidly. "You told me to bring them here?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, nodding. "I have a request for you."

"Professor, what's going on?" Dorcas asked, barely letting him finish talking.

"Sirius, your brother is currently injured in the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore informed us.

"Serves him right," muttered Sirius darkly.

Dumbledore looked at him, slightly disapprovingly, but continued. "Two students- we believe they were Rabastan Lestrange and Amycus Carrow- were on the Quidditch Pitch with him at the time of his injury. We believe that your brother was hurt as a…distraction."

James scowled. "Distraction from what?" he asked.

"We don't know yet, but it is my belief that Death Eaters might be trying to infiltrate the school," Dumbledore replied. "I am of the opinion that you might be able to help stop them. You are all brilliant students, and have proven yourselves strong in defending yourselves against the Dark Arts. Because of this, I would like to ask you to join the secret organization called the Order of the Phoenix."

"The Order of the what?" Emmeline asked, a frown flashing across her features.

"The Phoenix. It is a group founded by me that is dedicated to stopping Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We operate in secret, using the resources available to us to defend ourselves and others."

"Why didn't you ask me sooner?" James practically growled, scowling slightly. "You know I'd join in a heartbeat."

"The truth is, I didn't know whether some of you would be up to it or not," Dumbledore responded, inclining his head toward me. I tried not to blush.

"Of course we're up to it!" Sirius cried, half scowling at Dumbledore.

I nodded and said, "Is there anything else you need, Professor?"

"I only need you all to be careful," Dumbledore said firmly. "Please."

"Of course we will be," I vowed. "Won't we?"

I turned and looked at the others. Although Alice and Remus nodded and Dorcas grinned weakly at me, Marly, Emmeline, and Sirius didn't meet my eyes, and James was looking firmly at the portrait of Armando Dippet. I sighed. Typical, really. I shouldn't have expected anything else.

Dumbledore, however, did not seem to notice their unwillingness. My guess was that he was probably planning to force us to stay in school somehow, like keeping us all inside twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, to keep our eyes on the goings-on. But I knew the Marauders had secret passageways; surely Dumbledore knew about them since it was his school. He had probably blocked them to keep the Marauders safe. Hopefully he had. Even if I didn't like James much, I didn't want him to get hurt. He was, after all, a student, and it was my job as Head Girl to keep the students safe. And, for the record, that meant the Slytherins as well. I wasn't going to follow James' example and turn a blind eye to the Gryffindors attacking Slytherins for no reason other than the fact that they were Slytherins. Nor was I going to ignore the Slytherins attacking Gryffindors- they would get the same punishments the Gryffindors would. I wasn't biased. I would keep the students as safe as I possibly could- all of them.

What about the students that don't want to be kept safe? I asked myself worriedly, casting an apprehensive look at James, whose fist was clenched around his wand so tightly I was afraid it might snap at any moment.

Surprising me, James turned and opened his mouth as if to say something. He stopped when he noticed me looking at him and said under his breath, just loud enough so we could all hear him, "Blimey, Evans, I know I'm good looking, but you don't have to ogleme, you know."

I felt my face grow warm and muttered so that only he could hear me, "Wanker."

His reply was, "Swot."

"Arsehole."

"Sex goddess."

He said that last one very loudly; everyone heard him and even Dumbledore chuckled. I felt my face grow still hotter and knew that it must have matched my hair by then.

"Oh, belt up, you prat," I snapped, preparing myself to kick him in a rather painful area.

Reading my face as easily as he would a book, however, James dodged my foot and smiled falsely at Professor Dumbledore. "Well, Professor, I really must be getting back to my work. It's getting late, and I do need to finish my Transfiguration essay. Pip pip!"

James walked over to the door, opened it, and was about to leave when fifteen Aurors suddenly appeared, crowding Dumbledore's office. I found myself sandwiched between Sirius and Emmeline; we were so close that Sirius' aftershave was making me choke. I wondered how Marly put up with being so close to him. Had she ever been that close to him? Had she ever done anything with him?

As my mind wandered, the Auror called Moody was scowling, something that made his face, if possible, even scarier, and as I tuned back in to the world around me, I realized that he was talking quietly to Dumbledore.

"Yes, I would like Aurors posted around the school, Alastor, as I already told you three times," Dumbledore was saying, sounding rather impatient, a very un-Dumbledore-like quality, as far as I knew. "And do it quickly, please. If anything happens, I think it's going to happen soon. Perhaps even tonight."

Behind me, Emmeline had gone very still, and I knew she was listening intently. Out of the corner of my left eye, I could see Alice and Frank clinging to each other almost desperately, their eyes never leaving Dumbledore's face.

"Dumbledore, I don't know if we have enough Aurors," one of them said. She was Asian and looked old, but maybe that was just because of the all nights she had probably spent wide awake working. Now that I thought about it, none of my friends looked their age. They all looked to be older than seventeen and they had seen far more than a seventeen-year-old should ever be expected to.

"I think the protection of all the students in Hogwarts is a lot more important than wandering the streets looking for Death Eaters that we never find!" Kingsley Shacklebolt, once a Ravenclaw prefect who had nearly been made Head Boy, snapped.

I looked at him in surprise; Kingsley had never been one to question authority. He had always been the timid, rule-abiding type who never spoke in class except to answer questions. I hadn't known him too well; we'd had patrols together when I'd been in fifth year, but we hadn't talked much. Remus and I had usually been talking animatedly about some new Charm or the last Herbology class.

"Quiet, Shacklebolt," Moody growled at him. "I've got this under control."

Ah. Kingsley was Moody's trainee. That explained his newfound assertiveness. Everyone knew Moody was one of the few Aurors who would be likely to listen to a boy barely out of school.

Kingsley nodded and closed his mouth.

"Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, I trust you will not find it too difficult to escort your friends to the Gryffindor common room," Dumbledore said, looking pointedly at James.

James hesitated; he looked like he wanted to stay here for a few more minutes and hear what the Aurors were talking about.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore repeated, a slight warning to his voice.

Recognizing defeat, James sighed and stepped out of the office. A moment later, Sirius managed to weave his way through the crowd of Aurors, with me closely behind. I smiled faintly at one of the Prewetts- I thought it was Gideon- and he grinned slightly in return. Emmeline pushed me gently forward. I sighed and started to leave, accidentally stepping on Frank's toes in the process. He gave me a playful shove, gave Alice one last kiss, and convinced her to go to the Head's dormitories with us. Reluctantly, she let go of him and followed me out of the office.

"So," James said as soon as we walked out. " _What d'you reckon?_ "

"I reckon we should all be careful and go to the common room like Dumbledore said," I replied firmly.

James snorted. "Really, Evans, don't be daft- you can't honestly believe any of us is actually going to do that?"

"Of course we are, Potter," I responded testily. "Otherwise we're all going to get killed- or hurt- or attacked- "

"Evans, why d'you think Voldemort's targeting you?" Sirius asked.

"She's a pretty smart witch," Emmeline said, not giving me a chance to say anything. "That could be it."

"She's more than just 'pretty smart'- she's damn brilliant," James muttered. "I think Voldemort's trying to get her on his side."

"That's ridiculous," I snorted. "Why would he kill my mother, then?"

"I don't think he killed your mother; it was probably some Death Eater being stupid," James explained. "And Voldemort didn't mean for her to die- I think he wanted to kidnap Lily."

"But his Death Eaters didn't find her," I murmured. "They found her mother."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Why are you talking about yourself in third person?"

I ignored him. "Which, James, is why I'm not going to fight him- because he's going to end up killing other people I care about!"

"We're all fighting him! Don't you get what being a part of the Order of the Phoenix means? It means that we have to fight him, whether we can hurt him or not!" James shouted, throwing his arms into the air.

"Well, maybe I care about you more than that!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

James' breathing was very heavy; he sounded like he'd been running for miles. Then his eyes closed and for a minute he said nothing. Then-

"Fine."

He turned and walked away.

There was an awkward silence.

A long, loud, awkward silence.

Then Sirius cleared his throat. "Er, I'll just go and- and find him- shall I?"

Remus nodded at him; Marly grabbed my arm and practically dragged me in a seemingly random direction.

"So, Head Queen," she began, her voice overly chirpy. "Lead us to your castle!"

"If I was Queen, Potter would be King, which would mean we would have to have some sort of relationship other than mutual hatred, and we don't," I replied coldly, knowing despite my words that I didn't hate him and he definitely didn't hate me.

"Oh, Lily, for someone so smart, you're so stupid sometimes!" Dorcas snapped. "Can't you see that he really likes you? A lot?"

"He does not like me!" I shouted at her, and then immediately felt guilty for yelling at her. In a much quieter voice, I added, "His emotions are all screwed up because of the bloody war, and he's confused- he doesn't like me, and he doesn't love me, he probably hates me, and I just want him to leave me the hell  _alone_!"

With that, I turned and dragged Marly to the common room, Peter, Remus, Dorcas, Emmeline, and Alice following closely behind us.

"Calm down, Lily," Marly said quietly when I dragged her into the Head's rooms with me. "This place is really nice."

As if I couldn't see that for myself.

"I'm going to bed," I snapped.

Marly started to follow me, but stopped when I slammed the door shut in her concerned face.

I curled up in my bed, snuggling as deep under the covers as I could go, and Summoned a book from somewhere in the room. Lighting my wand, I skimmed through what ended up being Quidditch Through the Ages, a book I had never particularly liked. This book was one of mine, despite the fact that I'd never read it, considering I had never found Quidditch to be very interesting.

The book, I found, was actually quite interesting. I skipped through to the "Anti-Muggle Precautions" part of the book and immersed myself in it until I heard Marlene come in and ask me if I wanted her to stay the night. I shook my head, but she and Alice came in and conjured beds to stay anyway.

"This is a nice bathroom," I heard Alice say, somewhere in the distance, around an hour later. I had extinguished my wand light because I knew the other girls were wide awake, and I didn't want them to know I was.

Once they finished their showers or whatever they were doing, they started talking, the way we had done almost every night that we had spent together at Hogwarts.

"I like Sirius a lot," Marly said quietly. "I think I'm in love with him."

How could she be in love with him? She hadn't shown any signs of liking him at all before I'd seen her for the first time that year. Love took longer than that to develop, didn't it? Alice had liked Frank for ages, so she was justified, but Marly? She jumped from boy to boy like a frog hopping from lily pad to lily pad.

"I know I'm in love with Frank," Alice added. "I think I've always known, really."

"Since that day you tripped over his feet and he helped you up in second year," Marly confirmed, giggling. "But seriously, Alice, you've got it worse than all of us. At least I have my boyfriend here so I can kiss him whenever I want."

I sighed. It was wonderful to have as many loyal friends as I did, but sometimes, especially when I listened to them, with their classic love stories, I wondered what had happened to mine. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be held in someone's arms and have him comfort me the way Sirius comforted Marly and Frank comforted Alice.

The two continued like this, gossiping idly with no thought at all of the war.

Later in the night, I sprang up out of my bed. Leaving it completely unmade, something rather uncharacteristic of me, I hurried to the common room. Marly gave me a questioning look; Alice barely glanced up from her Transfiguration homework.

"You're up late, Evans."

James. Bugger.

"It's not like I sleep much anymore lately anyway," I replied.

He pulled a face; it looked like he had tried and failed to grin. "Evans, since we're both awake and alone and probably not going to be interrupted, would you like to talk?"

"Yeah, that's what they call what we're doing now," I said shortly and more than a little rudely, knowing that wasn't what he'd meant.

"You know what I'm talking about, Lily."

Why was he calling me by my first name all of a sudden?

I sighed. "Yeah, I do."

There was an awkward pause. Then-

"I like you a lot, Lily," he murmured, and suddenly he was standing in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. I couldn't see much of his face because we were cloaked in darkness, but I could feel his eyes boring into mine. "No, I don't."

This was what I'd meant about the war confusing our emotions- even James couldn't work out whether he liked me or not. He was getting his thoughts and feelings muddled up and what he might have thought was attraction was really probably hatred or- or-

"I don't like you because I love you," he said slowly, as if reading my thoughts and wanting to quell my suspicions.

I didn't reply. I couldn't even look at him anymore- somehow my eyes had adjusted well enough to see that his usual mask had disappeared from his face, and he was looking at me with the most honesty I had ever seen.

I turned around, breaking free of his grip, and forced myself to stop the tears that were suddenly threatening to fall down my face.

"What's wrong, Lily? Why don't you just look at me- why can't you talk to me?"

There was something in his voice- Pain? Desire? I couldn't even tell the difference anymore- that finally broke me, and even as I tried to force the tears away, they fell, they fell quickly and thickly, and it was all I could do to stop from throwing myself into his arms.

He, however, resolved that issue for me within exactly seventy-two seconds- yes, I counted, it helped me stop myself from doing anything stupid-, by scooping me into his arms and holding me there against his chest. He hugged me, and I didn't know how it happened, but then his lips crashed against mine, and he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and in spite of the war, in spite of everything, for a moment, one short moment, everything felt so perfect and so right, as a tingling warmth spread through me and my mind stopped working for a split second.

But then I had to ruin it all, ruin it the way I always did, by tearing myself away from him, even when my body knew it felt so right there in his arms, even though I felt like I fit there so perfectly, even though his lips were soft and warm and inviting.

"I can't," I whispered, turning around and staring at the door to my room. "I can't do this, James."

"Why  _not_?" he asked, his voice breaking and making me want to comfort him. "Lily, do you know how long I've waited for this? How long I waited for that kiss?"

"James, I can't," I said, turning back around to meet his eyes. "I don't know why. I just can't."

"But you care about me!" he shouted, and there was desperation in his voice. "You said it yourself!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"You said you didn't want to fight because you cared about me and you didn't want me to get hurt."

Damn it. That hadn't been what I'd meant. But he'd obviously taken it that way. And really, what had I meant?

"That's not what I meant," I mumbled. "I don't think of you that way."

He took hold of my hands; I nearly let him pull me closer, but then I forced myself to stand me ground.

"Then how do you think of me, Lily?" he asked, his voice low. His eyes were locked with mine, and the pain in them made me tremble.

"I- I don't know!" I cried. "My emotions are all confused because of the war and I'm not sure if I like you or not, but what I do know is that I can't- I can't do anything with you- you're too involved in the war- you're in too deep, James, and I can't- I can't put myself in the position to care about you only to have you get killed. I can't get hurt like that. Not again."

"What?" James asked. "I'm not worth the risk?"

"James, please, just leave me alone. I don't know what I feel about you, but I don't- I don't-"

"You don't care about me," he said slowly, stepping away from me and letting go of my hands. "I was wrong."

His face was masked in darkness again, but I knew that it would probably be his usual false confidence and calmness.

"James, that's not what I-"

"You want me to leave you alone, Evans? Fine. I will."

I stared at him, slightly incredulous, as he turned around and walked slowly back to his dormitory.

Even after his door closed and the lock clicked loudly, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the spot where he had been standing.

That was when I let myself bring a finger to my tingling lips.

They burned for at least an hour before I finally managed to doze off.


	9. Eight

"There's a Hogsmeade trip the day before Halloween," I informed Alice, plopping into the seat beside her. "We should go."

"I'm surprised they haven't cancelled Hogsmeade yet," Marly said gloomily from the next table over, where she was stretched out over two chairs and staring up at the ceiling. "With all the stuff that's been happening…did you know there was no one in Diagon Alley the day I went to get my books?"

"Not surprising, Marly, considering there's a war going on," I told her. "It's good though, people are keeping themselves safe…"

_They should be fighting,_  that annoying voice in my head that refused to leave me alone insisted. Ignoring it, I said, "I wish Saggese would get here – this is the second time this week she's late."

Alice shrugged. "All the more time to talk, right?"

"Honestly, Alice, what kind of a student are you?" I asked. "Don't you want to learn?"

"And this ist the most important class, too, Defense Against the Dark Arts," Marly said wearily. "We know, Lily, you say it at least twice a day.…"

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "Well, it's true," I said defensively.

Saggese finally entered the classroom, looking very dishevelled. Her dark hair was falling out of its bun and her eyes kept darting to the windows as if she was expecting something.

"No practical lesson today," she said shakily. "Read up on Patronuses…I want a roll of parchment on the proper conjuration of one by the end of class."

She sat down at her desk and pretended to walk watch us, but I could tell she was alert to anything that might happen.

Nothing did by the end of class, however, and we left the room wondering what was going on.

"She's oddly jumpy today," I said to no one in particular as we all made our ways to the Great Hall for lunch.

"No, really?" said Dorcas sarcastically, not looking at me and keeping her eyes trained forward, presumably on Remus, who was walking in front of her with Sirius and Marly.

"I wonder why," I snapped, ignoring Dorcas. "Maybe someone in her family…you know."

"What, scared to say that someone might've died, Evans? Scared you'll jinx yourself?" James inquired, a note of bitterness in his voice.

I turned to face him and saw…nothing. His face was blank, his eyes were shadowed, and his arms were crossed almost defensively over his chest.

"I – "

I was cut off by a busty brunette who happened to shrug her way through the crowded hallway and over next to James at that moment. Surprisingly, he slipped an arm around her waist and allowed her to kiss him wetly on the cheek.

"Oh, Evans, by the way, this is Autumn. Autumn, this is the uptight girl I have to live with."

I gaped at him. I knew it – I  _knew_  his whole "I love you, Lily!" thing was just a product of the war! Of course he'd go for the girl everyone knew had been with nearly every guy in the school. She'd be the most experienced and therefore the most fun for James, as much as it pained me to admit it.

No – it didn't pain me, of course it didn't, I didn't care who he was with. He could date Snape for all I cared.

"Hello, Autumn," I said, smiling pleasantly. "Well, I'm off, don't want to be late for lunch, I hear they're serving chocolate cake for dessert, mustn't miss it!"

I walked off with Alice and Emmeline – the others had already gone off to eat. I had the distinct impression that James was stunned at my indifference to his girlfriend, as when he came to lunch ten minutes later, he made no effort to talk to me.

Instead of making me happy, as I had hoped it would, it only increased the depression that had been threatening me for weeks.

***

"What d'you think about Frank coming to Hogsmeade with us tomorrow?" Alice asked.; sShe was lying on one of the couches in the Head's Common Room, a place she had taken to spending excess time in of late. "McGonagall  _did_  say we need a guard, after all, since we're all, you know,  _Order members_."

"I don't even know what we're supposed to be doing for the Order," I said in response. "I mean, I know they want us to find out what we can or whatever, but honestly, aren't we just getting ourselves in danger? Wouldn't it be better to get, I don't know, Snape on their side or something? What can we find out about Gryffindors? They aren't Death Eaters."

"Do I sense some house-ly bias, Lily dearest?" Alice giggled. "Not you, Queen of Head Girl-ship!"

"No, it's just that, we won't be able to find out anything about any other houses, and anyway, everyone in the school is a student so it wouldn't even matter if we did.…"

"Just because someone's a student, does not mean they aren't working for Voldemort," Alice replied, and there was a hint of coolness in her voice, one that brought my eyes to hers. For once, she wasn't all fake smiles and laughter – her round face was set determinedly, and she looked almost angry.

"What's wrong?" I inquired instantly. "Did something happen to Frank?"

"Not that I know of," she replied. "But honestly, Lily – everyone Dumbledore told us about is a student at the school, but and is also working for Voldemort – why can't you get that through your head?"

"Well, I'm sorry," I snapped, though I really knew she was right. "Excuse me for not expecting suspecting people I've been friends with for seven years!"

"Since when are you friends with any Slytherins?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I've been at school with them for years, Alice. I refuse to let some stupid prejudices make me think that they're all Death Eaters!"

"Are you calling me stupid?" Alice said coolly.

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

There was an icy cold silence, and then Alice muttered, "You're an idiot, Lily."

Neither of us said anything for at least an hour, and when we did talk, Alice only said, "I'm meeting Frank, see you later."

When she opened the door and walked out of it, I was left with a strangely empty feeling.

_I wish I had him,_  I thought, wondering vaguely if I was talking about the boy that was holed up in his bedroom with yet another girlfriend or the boy that Alice was meeting.

Well, whichever man I meant, I knew what I really wanted: someone to hold me, love me, pull me through this war and come out whole.…

_You don't want Frank,_  that voice in my head pestered.

"I realise that, you idiot!" I snapped.

_You know who you do want, though._

"Yeah, I want you to leave me alone!"

I was having a conversation with myself. And half of it was out loud.

In the back of my mind, the fact that I was going insane registered vaguely, but the forefront was glaring at the couple that had emerged from James' room.

His hair was even messier than usual. His lips were swollen and stained red. He was smirking in that stupid self-satisfied way. (I barely spent a moment wondering how he satisfied himself…he could probably use this new girlfriend for that).

The girl – Julia Spencer? – had curly black hair that was beyond tangled at this point. Her eyes were large and bright, bright blue. She was, in a word, gorgeous – no wonder James was dating her. He never had settled for anything less than perfect.

_Except for you. He would have settled for you._

_Oh, shut up._

"Hello, Potter. Forgotten the inter-gender rules already? It's barely been two months."

The girl's neck had familiar markings on it. I could remember my first hickey – I had been more of a romantic then, calling it a "lovebitelove bite" and hiding it with turtlenecks even though it had been summer.

It had been a boy by the name of Luke Baldwin…my first boyfriend and crush for at least three summers…

"Jealous, Evans?" James asked, raising an eyebrow sleekly.

"Oh, yes, I've always wanted unsightly vampire bites all over my throat…tell me, how is it being undead, Julia?"

To this, Julia raised both her eyebrows and smiled sweetly. "Fun. We have parades every night with spiders and bats and Snape."

I laughed. James scowled, but quickly rearranged his features into his usual "I know I'm bloody brilliant" smile.

"Well, Julia, there are rules you two are breaking by being in his bedroom together, but how 'bout I let you have the common room all to yourselves?" I suggested, my lips practically touching my ears with all the smiling I was doing.

"Ooh, thanks, Lily., sSee James, you were wrong, she isn't uptight at all!"

"Oh, by the way, Evans, Professor Saggese's gone for the week, something's happened at the Auror offices…they need more people or something – Dumbledore asked me to tell you a while ago, but I forgot."

James looked confident that I would tell him off for not alerting me sooner.

_What a git…_

Positively  _beaming_ , I said, "That's fine, I'm glad you told me. I'll see you two lovebirds later!"

I walked out of the room slowly, (not without waving excitedly at Julia and James first, of course,) and found myself running straight into Sirius when I started toward the library.

"So, what'd you say to Prongs?" he asked, frowning at me. It was our first real encounter in weeks; I had forgotten that he would want to talk about James when he finally found me.

"Nothing," I replied tersely, rubbing my aching cheeks. "Ouch…never smile falsely for too long, Sirius…"

"No, seriously," he said, and then laughed. "No pun intended, of course."

"Go jump in a river, Sirius, I need some quiet time."

His face grew concerned as he actually looked at me.

"What's wrong, Evans? Did something happen with James?"

"I don't know," I responded, shrugging. "I'm just…tired."

As I said it, I realizrealised it was true. My head was throbbing dully, my eyes barely able to stay open, my brain tripping over all the thoughts that I was trying to think…and yet, I couldn't sleep. When I did find a comfortable corner and close my eyes, visions of my mother flashed in front of me…visions of my dad, of Marly, Alice, Emmeline, Dorcas, James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, even Petunia…all of them…dead…

"Aren't we all, Evans, aren't we all…"

Sirius slung an arm around my shoulders and I found myself actually leaning into him as we walked.

"Where are you headed?" he asked. "Library?"

"How'd you guess?" I asked dryly, but didn't move away from him. It felt so good to be held by someone who had never claimed to be in love with me, someone whose eyes didn't make me yearn for him, someone who didn't confuse me at all…

"You're such a swot," he muttered, not releasing me until we reached the door of the library. "I've got to go meet this girl…"

"Marly?" I inquired, and he dragged a hand through his dark hair.

"Er…no. No, not Marly…could you not…you know…tell her?"

"Sirius…who are you meeting?"

"Emmeline Vance," he replied. "Our year, Gryffindor, you hang out with her sometimes…not bad looking, either – "

"Sirius, what are you talking about?" I cried, gaping at him. "You aren't – you aren't cheating on Marly, are you?"

"No!" he said, and said it so sincerely that I had to believe him. "We…listen…well – it's Marly's birthday in a couple weeks…and Em's helping me with a present."

"And you couldn't ask me for help?" I asked, frowning and crossing my arms jokingly.

"Well – no offence, but you know absolutely nothing about Quidditch."

"So what about James?"

"You are the perfect example to prove that he knows even less about girls than you do about everyone's favourite sport."

"My favourite sport is football."

"Ah, I've played that!" Sirius exclaimed, grinning. "It was mainly just to piss my mum off…me and James got hold of a Muggle football and played in my backyard when we were twelve…hilarious results, really. The dear old mumsie was so narked…"

"Delightful."

"You're a very sarcastic person, Evans."

"I've got to go study, Sirius."

He flashed me that stupid Marauder grin – they all had it, even if only Sirius and James actually used it – and winked wolfishly, then scurried down the corridor.

***

" – the hell were you doing with her?" Marly cried, outraged.

"I was trying to find you a birthday present!"

"Oh, and you needed Emmeline to do that? Don't you think I would've liked it better if my boyfriend, who supposedly loves me, picked it himself?"

"Marly, look, I'm sorry! I didn't think – " Sirius began.

"Obviously not! I saw how cosy you two were on that couch! Why didn't you just  _tell me_ , Sirius?"

"I didn't cheat on you with her, Marly! I would never do something like that!"

"How could I have been so  _stupid_?" Marly asked, and I had to press my ear to the door I was listening through to hear her.

On my way to the boys' dormitory to talk to Remus about a prefect meeting, I had found Marly and Sirius locked in the room, Marly accusing Sirius of cheating on her."

"I should have known…Lily warned me about the Marauders, and I never listened…"

I jumped at my name but continued to listen closely.

"Marly…"

"I'm not usually a jealous person, Sirius, but everyone knows that Emmeline likes you! And everyone knows that guys have -  _needs_! If I couldn't satisfy them, why couldn't you just tell me? I thought you loved me, Sirius!"

"I do!"

"Stop pretending you didn't do anything with her!" Marly screamed. "Everyone knows you're a player! I knew it, too! It's beyond me why I even agreed to this stupid relationship in the first place!"

"Oh, so it's stupid now, is it?" Sirius demanded. "What happened to 'No one's ever loved me this much, Sirsie,' and 'I wish I always had you, Sirsie,' and 'I want to be with you forever, Sirsie,' huh?"

"I never, ever,  _ever_  called you Sirsie! You know I hate nicknames like that!"

"As much as you hate me?"

There was a short silence and then I heard Marly's loud footsteps approaching the door and quickly slipped behind an ugly statue of Snape that Peter and James had made out of trash in our third year.

A few minutes later, Sirius burst from the room as well and stomped down the stairs.

Within about twenty secondsmoments, he and the rest of the Marauders were huddled together, most likely planning some type of prank.

The following morning, (after a couple of hours of fitful sleep), I was proven correct when I entered the Great Hall. James was grinning broadly, a smile that I could tell was almost real. Sirius looked at least a little bit better than he had the night before. Peter was looking hopefully toward the entrance. Remus, however, was skimming his copy of the _Prophet_  as he chewed his toast slowly.

I seated myself far enough away from the Marauders so that it wouldn't be too awkward when Marly came and sat down, but close enough so that whatever the prank was, it wouldn't have any effects on me, hopefully.

However, Snape came down before Marly did – it was, after all, a Saturday – and looked straight at the staff table.

_Uh-oh,_  I thought, taking a bite of toast as the Slytherin started walking – no,  _sprinting_  - toward the table.

"Beautiful Minerva!" he cried, kneeling in front of her seat. "Your beauty rivals that of Venus, your wisdom that of your namesake – how is it you came to make my heart tumble from its usual place in my chest?"

"Mr. Snape, stop this tomfoolery!" McGonagall said, blushing slightly. "Settle down, students!"

At least a dozen students had run up to where Snape kneeled, praising the professor.

"Mr. Snape, it seems, has been slipped a love potion of sorts," Slughorn said pompously, standing up. "I believe I have all the necessaries in my potions kit…"

He waddled off to find said kit, but when he returned, none of his remedies actually worked.

Meanwhile, the Marauders were all barely able to sit up. Sirius, in fact, was leaning heavily on James, who was holding onto the table for support as he laughed. Even Remus looked amused.

"Another prank, you four?" I asked, pretending it annoyed me, although I personally thought it was funny.

"No, not us, we would never!" Peter cried, and then burst into a fit of giggles again.

"Oh, just wait till he starts spouting Shakespeare," Sirius choked.

I rolled my eyes, though not without amusement, and let my eyes follow Snape as he practically flung himself at McGonagall.

" – Llight through yonder window breaks?" he was saying loudly, announcing it to the entire Great Hall, which was silent except for the occasional fit of laughter. "It is the East, and my dearest Minerva, thou art the Sun! Arise, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon!"

I couldn't help myself any longer. His recital of one of my old favourite books was just too humorous. I laughed.

"Look, we made Evans laugh!" Sirius said, pointing at me. "Look, Prongs, it's a miracle! She might even go out with you by the time Hell freezes over!"

McGonagall turned and started to talk over Snape. Flitwick, who she was trying to hold a conversation with, ignored her and continued to watch his student, who was now shouting.

"Two of the fairest stars in all heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes, to twinkle in their spheres till they return!"

By now, the Hall was so full of laughter we could barely hear him. It was nice, I thought, to have a light-hearted moment …after all the talk of the war, all the danger, all the death…

_This is why I'm going to fight. For laughter._

The thought came out of nowhere, and yet I knew, in the back of my mind, that it was true…

I shoved the momentary lapse of brainpower away, into that dark corner that held the thoughts I didn't want to think…

_The truths I don't want to accept._

I very nearly screamed in frustration as Snape, ever the Romeo, continued to proclaim his undying devotion to the "goddess."

"I'm going to go – get ready," I said, making up an excuse, even though the only people I really ever talked to were either laughing boisterously – (James looked ready to wet himself – ) or up in the Gryffindor common room. Marly, I knew, had wanted to be left alone, and Alice was probably with Frank.

Dashing toward the Head's Ddormitories, I quickly threw on jeans and a warm red hooded sweatshirt that I had bought the previous winter holiday, when Alice had come to visit me at home and I had showed her a Muggle shopping mall, along with several other places one was not likely to find in the wWizarding wWorld.

Now that I had made my excuse a truth, I had to go and talk to Marly. She had, in my opinion, had enough sulking to last a year or more.

I climbed up the girls' staircase quickly. Hardly anyone was actually in the common room – most people were probably busy enjoying the Marauders' prank on Snape.

My dormitory was silent when I entered it. Dorcas and Alice's beds were neatly made. Emmeline's was still a mess. Marly was sitting straight up, her back rigid against her headboard, eyes trained on a copy of  _Witch Weekly_. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and her makeup looked flawless. Her jeans and white tee shirt looked perfectly clean.

Upon closer examination, however, I found that her light brown eyes were bloodshot and staring blankly at the words on the page of the magazine without moving. Her hair was greasier than I had expected it to be. The makeup only barely covered up the deep bags under her eyes, although the effect was ruined slightly by the mascara and eyeliner that were smudged around them. The shirt was rumpled and was slightly damp in the front.

"Hey, Marly," I said softly, positioning myself across from her and crossing my legs. "What's up?"

She looked up at me, and the usual haunted look hiding in them was shown more clearly than ever before.

"I trusted him, Lily," she whispered. "And I was wrong…I'm so stupid. So, so stupid."

"No, you aren't, Marly!" I protested. "You aren't stupid for trusting someone. He's stupid, if he did anything with Emmeline, and she's stupid if she thought you wouldn't find out."

"She doesn't know," Marly said hoarsely. "I haven't told her. I'm scared I might hurt her, and I really, really don't want to get expelled right now…my parents are never home, they're always on some mission or other, and Caley…well…you know…"

"I could tell her for you," I offered, marvelling at her self control. If I was ever cheated on, I would probably hit everyone in sight.

I was extremely angry with myself at the moment. Once again, I had royally screwed up. How had I believed Sirius when he had told me that he wasn't cheating on Marly?  _Why_  had I believed it? This was Sirius Black, ladies' man extraordinaire. Was I just stupid, or was he just smarter than he seemed?

"No – it's fine, Lily – this is something I've got to do on my own."

"Don't hurt her too badly," I said. "We've got enough pain in the world already."

At that, she burst into tears and threw her arms around me. I patted her back and whispered, "It's okay, Marly, it's okay," repeatedly until she stopped crying and her ragged breathing slowed a little.

"I'm sorry, Lily," she whispered. "I know you've got more than enough going on in your own life without my love life getting in the way…"

"It's fine," I said firmly. "You're my best friend, Marly, and you always have been. I wouldn't just leave you here after some idiot broke your heart!"

"Thanks," she sniffled, backing away slightly and wiping the running mascara off her face. "Let me go clean up a bit and we can go to Hogsmeade, okay?"

I nodded. She grabbed some new clothes and hurried into the bathroom, leaving me alone for a bit to wonder whether she was right about Sirius or not.

Our trip to Hogsmeade was one of the worst ones I could remember. When we got there, it was pouring, and most of the streets were empty. Honeydukes and Zonko's were the only shops we actually visited, and inside, both were nearly empty. What with Alice being cooler than I could ever recall her being and the disgusting weather, it was almost a relief when we got hold of our butterbeer and returned to the comfortingly warm castle for dinner.

Throughout the meal, Marly kept sniffling. It was nearly a miracle I had even gotten her to come and eat; she had wanted to stay in the dormitory and be upset for the whole day.

When we next spotted Emmeline, she was sitting with Dorcas in the Gryffindor common room, working on an essay for Transfiguration.

"Hello, Vance," Marly said coolly, walking up to her.

"Hey, Marly," Emmeline said, not looking up. "What's with the last name?"

"How's Sirius doing?" Marly asked, ignoring her.

"I don't know, he's your boyfriend, you ask him."

"Yes, Vance, my boyfriend, so why on earth were you so comfortable with him on the couch yesterday?"

Marly's voice had risen an octave; her eyes were wide and angry, her arms crossed over her chest.

"We were…discussing something."

"Oh, were you now?" Marly shouted. "How do you discuss when your lips are locked together?"

"I have never,  _ever_  kissed Sirius!" Emmeline cried indignantly. "I would never do that to you, Marly!"

"Oh, shut up! You think you're clever, do you, to wait until Sirius and I are already arguing over little things, and then make your move on him? Couldn't you have just told me about your feelings for him? Maybe then we would've been able to – I don't know - _something!_  But  _no_ , Emmeline Vance always has to have what she wants without anyone helping her – always has to take what she wants forcefully – always has to – "

Sirius came out of nowhere and slipped his arms around Marly, who immediately started to struggle against him.

"Let go of me! Let  _go_ , you cheating bastard! I hate you! I  _hate_  you!"

"Calm down, Marlene McKinnon," he said softly into her ear, and it was a mark of how serious he was that he used her full name – it was something they had only ever done when they were not joking around. "Calm down."

"Get your disgusting paws off me!" Marly screamed. "I never want to see your lying face again!"

"Marly, I never lied to you. I have never even looked at Emmeline the way I look at you – we're just friends, why can't you understand that? I don't yell at you for being friendly with James!"

"I don't snog James!" Marly shouted. "I don't hide out in broom closets with him, thinking up 'birthday presents' for the person I supposedly love! Just let go of me, Sirius!"

Sirius wasn't lying. I could see it in his eyes – I  _knew_  he hadn't cheated on her. Thank Merlin…it would be lot easier to make Marly happier now that I was sure he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Marly…please, Marly…"

Sirius's arms fell limply to his sides. Marly immediately lunged forward and delivered a slap to Emmeline's hurt and more than a little shocked face. Then she ran, not to the girls' dormitories, but toward the door that led to the Heads' Common Room.

James opened the door as she reached it, and she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened as if in shock, but he didn't pull away…

And then suddenly I was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved against a wall, and Sirius was kissing me, and I found myself wanting revenge…

_For what?_  my mind asked.

_James!_  the voice that always tried to convince me to fight insisted.

James and Alice, being angry with me because I was scared…

_I don't like him, remember?_

_Yes, you do!_

Marly, sobbing – was I really going to hurt her like this?

_No, I don't!_

_Stop being stupid – of course you do -_

My mother, dead, hollow eyes staring up at my dad…

_I'm not jealous!_

_Yes, you are!_

_SHUT UP!_  a third voice, one that I rarely used, screamed.

Ignoring the internal struggle, I kissed Sirius back just as fiercely, and although there was only jealousy behind the kiss, I could hear James – Marly –

_Your best friend, you idiot!_

I pulled away from Sirius. "She's my best friend, Sirius! I can't – not to make her jealous – or to make him jealous – "

"I'll kill him," Sirius hissed. "He kissed her back – I'll kill him – "

"Just call it even," I murmured. "Just – just let it go."

"I will if you'll go out with me, Evans," Sirius said, his grey eyes angry, but his lips forming a smirk.

I glanced toward the corner where Marly was clutching James's arm, tears ruining her makeup again.

"I can't, Sirius. I know it's just to help you, but I – I can't do that to her."

"You don't want her to hate you," he sighed. "I know. You're best friends. I don't know if I'd even be able to do that to James…"

James – he was there in a moment, standing behind Sirius, his arm around his neck.

"What the hell were you playing at?" James shouted. "What the hell were you  _thinking_?"

Sirius's face gradually grew redder as he tried to choke out a reply, but eventually he managed to knee James in the groin and then threw a punch, and then another, to his face.

"What was  _I_  thinking? Who kissed who first, hmm? What were  _you_  thinking?"

James and Sirius continued their little fight until I screamed, "STOP!"

They stopped and looked at me, James's first in midair and Sirius's foot heading toward his stomach.

"Detentions to both of you, and you'd better work this out somehow, because it's all your fault, Sirius."

"How d'you figure?" Sirius snarled. "Marly's the one who thinks I cheated on her – or do you believe that, too?"

"Of course I don't," I replied impatiently. "But you're the one who didn't think of her present all on your own, aren't you? And anyway, you didn't have to kiss me – Emmeline would've done it, I think, and wouldn't have ruined my friendship with Marly."

"You kissed me back," said Sirius. "Mind telling me why?"

"I do, actually," I responded. "Good night. And Potter, I'd tend to that lip soon, or you won't be able to snog my best friend anymore."

I could feel James' eyes on me as I walked toward the Heads' Common Room. Marly, unsurprisingly, was not in there, or in my room, either. Upon entering James' bedroom, however, I found her sitting in a corner and glaring at the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking at her feet.

"I'm sorry, Marly."

"For what? It's not like you kissed my boyfriend or anything."

"Sirius kissed me, and I was way out of line to kiss him back. I wasn't thinking – well, I was, but I was thinking of – well – getting revenge."

"On who?" Marly asked. "On me? Because it's not as if I shagged the love of your life or anything, is it?"

"Well – I – the war – "

"Oh, stop blaming everything on the war!" Marly shouted. "It's the war's fault you snogged Sirius? How the hell do you figure that one out, O Brilliant Head Girl?"

"The war is confusing my emotions, and I'm not sure whether I have feelings for James or not, and when you – when I saw you two, I just – everything just – I don't know. And Sirius – he gave me the perfect way to brass you both off."

"Well, it worked," Marly grumbled. There was a short silence, and then she added, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Neither did I," I replied. "In fact, I still don't. I'm sort of screwed up, Marly."

"You aren't the only one," she sighed. "I hated you for a couple of minutes there…but I guess…he's not my boyfriend anymore, so you're free to snog him or – or shag him or – or whatever you really want to now."

"I don't want to, Marly!" I insisted. "I don't like him that way – and even if I did, I know you love him. I couldn't ever do that to you…"

"You just did," she snapped, and then sighed again. "I'm sorry, Lily. I really didn't know…I didn't think…I should've guessed, I suppose…"

"Don't apologise, it's all my fault," I said. "There was no way for you to know, but I've known about you and Sirius for weeks. I'm sorry, Marly. I'm sorry, and I didn't really enjoy the kiss at all."

"It's not your fault, it's Sirius's," she said quietly. "It's all his fault."

I thought about telling her that he hadn't cheated on her and decided against it. Maybe in the morning it would be better, after she'd gotten some sleep and had maybe thought rationally for a little bit.

"Let's go to bed," I suggested. "C'mon, my room's free, and I don't really feel like spending any more time in here…imagine if James found us…"

"He'd think we want to have a nice little threesome, and he'd enjoy it more than anyone in the world, too," Marly murmured. "He loves you, you know."

"Yes, well," I said, deciding not to argue. I was tired of explaining to people that he wasn't in love with me, and anyway, it would have just been a waste of time, as she'd have just insisted that I was wrong.

"I hope you two end up together," she told me when we had gone inside my room and Conjured her a bed.

I didn't reply, feigning sleep, and stared off into the sky, lit up by the nearly full moon.

 


	10. Nine: From Marlene McKinnon's Perspective

I barely slept the night before Halloween, but it hardly mattered as it was a Sunday. I had the entire day to do whatever I really wanted to, and that would probably include sleep at some point.

When I got out of bed, Lily was already gone, probably eating breakfast early as usual. I had heard her getting ready, but hadn't really registered it, as I had been deep in thought.

I decided that today I would forget about Sirius. Like my mother always said, there were plenty of fish in the sea. It didn't matter that my mind insisted that he was salmon and the rest were sardines; I would find someone else soon. I always did.

I showered and skipped makeup, except for the eyeliner and mascara, both of which I was in love with, even though Lily insisted I was pretty enough without them.

When I went down to the Great Hall, many people looked at me. When I sat down next to Lily, there was a collective gasp.

"I take it they know about last night?" I asked bitterly.

Lily nodded. "Gossip travels like wildfire in this school. They were all asking me about it when I got here."

"Big surprise, all of them being obsessed with the bloody Marauders." I buttered some toast but didn't eat it. Instead, I raised both eyebrows at the black envelope that was flying toward me.

Lily's eyes widened as she saw it, and she watched me fearfully as I opened it.

As I had been expecting, a piece of parchment was inside. Written in black ink were words that made me stop breathing for a moment.

_Dear Ms. Marlene McKinnon,_

The Ministry of Magic regrets to inform you that Mr. Mark McKinnon and Mrs. Caitlin McKinnon were both killed last night while on duty.

The letter fell out of my hand before I finished reading it.

"What? What's happened? Marly?"

Lily's voice was somewhere distant. I could barely make out the words, and I couldn't understand them. Everything was black…

 _Am I dead?_  I wondered.  _No…why would I be dead?_

I opened my eyes – the Great Hall came back into view – Lily was clutching the letter and reading it quickly.

"Oh, no!" she cried, dropping it. "Oh, Marly – I'm so sorry!"

"For what?" I asked. "It's just a joke. Nothing serious. The Marauders must still be mad at me, so they sent me this."

I went back to my toast, but found that it suddenly looked more unappetizing than anything I had ever seen before.

"Marly…they wouldn't do something like that…not in the middle of a war."

"Are you saying something nice about the Marauders?" I asked, laughing, but the laughter sounded wrong. It was too high-pitched, too bitter…

"Are you joking?" Lily demanded. "Joking, even now, when your parents are dead? Marly, what's going on?"

Nothing was going on. The Marauders had just decided to prank me, and even if it was a really mean way to do so, this did the trick. My parents weren't dead – how could they be?

_This is a war, Marlene McKinnon. People die. Your sister died. Why not your mum? Why not your dad?_

"No one's dead," I said, grinning at Lily, but the grin was forced and hurt my face. "Am I dead? Are you dead? Actually, now that I think about it, maybe we're all dead. Maybe we're all living in a world of dead people. Maybe we're all Inferi, and the Inferi that we think are Inferi are actually alive, and we've just been wrong all this time. Maybe when we think people die, they're just coming back to life. But my parents are still dead…or alive…whichever one we are."

"Oh, my God, I think you're in shock," Lily murmured, standing up and wrapping an arm around me. "C'mon, Marly, let's get you to Professor Dumbledore…"

She led me to the staff table, where Dumbledore was looking at me almost pityingly. _Why?_  I wondered. Had something happened to me? Maybe I really  _was_ dead…maybe I was a ghost.

"Professor, I think Marly's in shock."

Lily was talking to him, but I wasn't taking in the words. I had, at some point, picked up the letter again, and as I reread it again and again, the horrible truth started to set in…

"No," I whispered, shaking my head rapidly. "Lily – Lily,  _no_ , tell me they aren't dead - _please_ , Lily!"

Lily looked at me, her eyes damp, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Marly. I can't."

"Ms. McKinnon, if you would like to, you can spend some time with your family…"

I shook my head again. "What family? My sister's dead. My parents are dead. My dad's family can't stand him. My mum's family's in America. My parents'll probably have a funeral, right? With all the Aurors…all the Ministry officials…all the people that never really knew them…"

"Ms. McKinnon, do you want to attend your parents' funeral?"

He was giving me a choice. I could go, could watch all the people who claimed my parents had been wonderful people, claimed that they had loved them…but they couldn't know. They couldn't know that my dad was a huge fan of the Muggle sport football, but hated cricket. They couldn't know that my mum was wonderful at Quidditch. They would never know that my dad's favourite thing to do was watch television, even if we weren't Muggles. They wouldn't know about my mum's multiple tattoos and body piercings, usually hidden by clothing.

They didn't know them. They didn't love them.

I wasn't going to the funeral. I had a choice, and I had chosen.

"No, Professor. I'm not going to their funeral."

Dumbledore seemed to know what I was thinking. His bright blue eyes pierced right through me.

"I know that it won't do you any good to know this, but I truly am sorry. Your parents were wonderful students and good friends."

"Were they part of the Order?" I asked, lowering my voice. Dumbledore glanced around, then nodded.

"Ms. McKinnon, you don't have to attend classes tomorrow, but I will expect you to be at Transfiguration first thing Tuesday morning."

I nodded at Dumbledore, because I knew he was right. It wouldn't do to mourn my parents and stop living. I had to finish this year at school, and then three years of Auror training after that, and then I would be fighting the same evil they had died trying to eradicate…

I would do it. I would die fighting…die trying…

Suddenly, a burning hatred, a passionate need to fight Voldemort, filled me.

"When's the next meeting?" I asked Dumbledore.

He smiled slightly and replied, "I'll let you know, Marlene."

Lily took me by the arm again and pulled me to the common room.

"Are you alright, Marly?"

"Alright?" I asked, laughing. "Oh, yeah, brilliant. My parents are dead, I'm not attending their funeral, and the man I love is out girl-hunting as we speak."

And then suddenly it hit me – all of it. Sirius, my mum, my dad, my sister, everything.

" _Do you really want to know how to play football, Marls?" my dad asked, lacing his cleats and standing up._

I nodded eagerly and held out my foot so that he could tie my laces, too. "Please, Daddy? It looks so fun when you play with your friends!"

"Of course, sweetie," he said, lifting me off my chair and carrying me to the backyard. "Let's play!"

"Daddy, why is the Quaffle black and white instead of red?" I asked, holding up the odd ball.

"It's a football, not a Quaffle, Marlene. Quaffles are for Quidditch; footballs are for football."

"Oh!" I cried, full of understanding. "Thanks, Daddy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Marlene."

"Aw, did you get a boo-boo playing football with Dad?" my mother cooed. I nodded, knowing that at six years old, I was too old to be asked about "boo-boos," but not caring.

"Mummy, will you kiss it and make it better?" I begged, holding up my hand so she could see the cut.

"Of course, darling," she murmured, kissing it and then hugging me tightly. "I love you, Marlene."

"I love you too, Mum."

"Marly, look, I got my letter! My Hogwarts letter! I'm going to be going with you next year!" Caley cried, holding up the thick, creamy parchment. I smiled.

"That's awesome, I can't wait! It's going to be so much fun with you there!"

"What's it like, Marly? How do you get Sorted? Which House do you want me to be in? I want to be in Gryffindor like you! That would be so cool!"

"You'll be in Gryffindor," I promised. "You're brave and you like red, so you'll be in Gryffindor."

"I love you, Marly."

I love you too, Caley… I thought.

_The room was small and cosy, with pale blue carpeting and pale blue walls that inspired peace and happiness. The table was set in the middle, made of a creamy coloured wood and covered in a white table cloth. Atop the table were place settings for two, candles, and even a single red rose beside my plate._

"This is beautiful, Sirius," I murmured, smiling at the small room he had brought me to. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble!"

"I know that. I wanted to. There's something important I have do, and I wanted it to be special," he replied. "This is a secret room… Remus and I discovered it in third year. Not too many people know about it, but I like to come here to think."

"I love it. It's nice and warm…"

"And there's a wonderful dumbwaiter that brings up food from the kitchens," Sirius informed me. "But, with the help of a couple of handy-

_dandy house-elves, I managed to actually cook something – isn't it shocking?"_

"This is so sweet," I murmured, leaning closer to him. "What's it for?"

"Marlene McKinnon…there's something I have to tell you."

I waited, watching him and smiling quizzically.

"I love you."

The memories tore through me as I lay back on my bed, eyes closed, tears spilling from beneath the lids. Lily was sitting on Dorcas's bed, pretending to read, but I knew she was really keeping an eye on me. Either she or Alice had been in all day, never both, as Alice was a bit annoyed with Lily at the moment, and they had barely said two words to me, but I knew what they were thinking. They felt bad for me, guilty, relieved it hadn't been them…

_Don't think like that, Marly. It'll only make things worse._

For once, I listened to my mind and forced the thoughts away, curling up in a ball and trying, despite myself, to fall asleep.

It took a while, but eventually I managed to make it work and fell victim to dreams in which my parents, sister, and Sirius swam in and out of a giant underwater football field, eventually drowning.


	11. Ten

November arrived, and with it the return of Quidditch season. Almost as soon as Halloween was over, James started scheduling practises at the most absurd times of the day. His planner, which I had a look at one day when he left it out in our common room, made me flinch.

_Monday: 3:30-6:00, morning practise.  
Tuesday: 4:00-5:30, morning practise. 7:00-8:30, evening practise.  
Wednesday: 6:30-9:00, evening practise.  
Thursday: 3:30-5:00, morning practise. 6:30-8:00, evening practise.  
Friday: 3:30-6:00, morning practise.  
Saturday: 12:00-2:30, afternoon practise.  
Sunday: 1:00-3:00, afternoon practise._

"Do you really need so much Quidditch?" I questioned. "Surely you're going to get tired of it?"

"Yes," he replied tartly. "And I'll thank you not to question my decisions, Evans, as I've long since stopped questioning yours."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Well, we do have a Prefect meeting to get to. We don't want to be late…"

"You're right, let's go," he answered almost instantly. I raised an eyebrow.

"You seem eager," I observed.

"I've got people to see and things to do, and I don't want to be held up by a meeting."

He kept glancing at his watch and frowning.

"What're you going to do tonight? Hopefully it's not something out on the grounds, it's a full moon tonight, you wouldn't want to get bitten by a werewolf…"

Remus had left to visit his mum that morning, which meant he wouldn't be around to knock some sense into his friends if they  _did_  try something stupid.

I tried awkwardly to make conversation with him as we walked down to the Prefects' lounge. It was difficult, especially lately, to talk to him, as he was usually either napping because of his early morning Quidditch practise or with some girl or other, which of course put me off talking to him.

"So, Evans, what are you doing for Christmas this year?" he asked, turning and looking at me.

"I dunno…I'll probably go and visit my dad, see how he's doing, you know, after…"

"Yeah, I was planning on going to see my parents," James said in what would be a casual voice, but I could tell he was under a lot of strain.

"How's your dad doing, by the way?"

James sighed and stopped walking. Leaning against a wall, he responded, "Getting worse every day. I'm surprised he hasn't…"

He left the sentence open, but I could tell what he had been about to say. Despite myself, I walked over closer to him and said softly, "I'm sorry, James."

"For what?" he snapped. "Are you the one who poisoned him? Are you the one who failed to Heal him? I hate it when people apologise for things they haven't done – things that aren't their fault – don't you start on me, too!"

"Well, excuse me for caring," I said coolly, and James looked up at me, sighing again.

"Sorry, Evans. I didn't mean to just – I'm just really – I'm like a rubber band, you know? I'm stretched so tight that if I'm stretched even just a tiny bit more, I'll snap. I'm sorry, it's not your fault. I just – I hate all the pitying looks. I  _hate_  them!"

"I know how you f – "

"Don't say that, you'll only make yourself sound thick. I can't stand it when people say they know how I feel, because they don't, do they?"

"Excuse me," I said coldly. "Do you really think I don't know what it feels like to lose a parent?"

James looked up at me, hazel eyes widening slightly, and didn't say anything for a moment. Then –

"I forgot."

"You're a lucky one."

"Sorry, Lily."

I shook my head. Sometimes I wondered if I should just accept his apologies and date him. But no, it wasn't the right thing to do. I wasn't going to get hurt. Not again.

"We have a Prefect meeting to get to, Potter."

James' eyes flashed with pain, and I knew, somehow, that he hadn't expected me to suddenly act so cool toward him, but it was something I had to do. I wasn't going to befriend him, and then start to care for him, only to have him killed…

_Selfish._

The word drifted through my mind, like a gentle breeze that froze me from the insides – but I didn't care. Not at that moment. I probably never would. The war was not going to hurt me again. I would not let myself care enough about them to want to die when they were hurt. I couldn't. I wouldn't.

We reached the Prefect lounge about five minutes late, and a couple of Prefects wagged their eyebrows at me, the disgusting gits. As if I would do anything with James – I wasn't even attracted to him.

_Right._

_Shove it._

I was going mental, and I knew it, what with these conversations I was frequently having with my mind, but I didn't care. It was bound to happen at some point, and better to get it over with now, while I was still young, than when I was older and wouldn't realize what was happening, so my husband and children would put me in a straitjacket and stick me in the Permanent Residents ward of St. Mungo's.

"Hey, Jane, the Room of Requirement is free tomorrow night, what d'you say we spend some time there?" James asked from beside me, breaking me out of my insane thoughts.

"You can discuss your date later, Potter. Right now we have some planning to do. Prefects, what ideas do you have for the decorations of the Great Hall for Christmas?"

Dumbledore had asked us to plan the holiday festivities a month and a half in advance, and James and I were quick to comply. It was more fun than sitting with the Prefects discussing rounds, anyway.

We spent at least a half hour talking about decorations and parties and rules and things, but I really wasn't listening through most of it. I was too busy grinning back at Calvin Whitby, who was sitting next to me and constantly trying to make me laugh.

"I think you were right about Potter, he does have a rather big head, doesn't he?" Calvin muttered in my ear so that only I could hear him. I giggled, glancing at James, who was glaring at us.

"If you two could stop flirting for five minutes, I think we need your participation in this."

"Jealous, Potter?" I said, raising an eyebrow at what was, in my opinion at least, a fine imitation of him.

"Of what? Whitby? The boy so thick he can barely keep his arse on a broom? I don't think so."

I rolled my eyes as Calvin said, "Lily, it looks like Potter doesn't appreciate our friendship. Maybe we should go somewhere more private?"

"What a wonderful idea!" I gushed, hating how girly my voice sounded. "You should come to the Head's common room…Potter'll probably be with his little Marauder friends, like he always is. We can talk about…Potions."

Calvin grinned at me, winked, and slid an arm around my waist.

"So – Prefects – er, yeah, good ideas – we'll meet – next Thursday, okay? At half eight – after Quidditch."

James's voice was shaky, and his hand was gripping his quill so tightly I was genuinely scared that it might break and give him loads of splinters, which would probably be infected, as the last time I had checked, birds were not exactly sanitary about their feathers.

I stood up to leave as all the Prefects walked out of the room, but James held me back. Calvin, his arms crossed, didn't leave my side.

"This is Head business, Whitby. You can leave."

"What if I don't want him to?" I asked James coolly.

"Whitby, leave or it's detention."

"Lily – " Calvin began.

"It's not worth it, Calvin. I'll see you later."

With a sigh of defeat, Calvin gave me a quick grin and left.

"What is it, Potter?"

"Don't date him," James replied, and I gaped at him.

"You're joking, right?" I snapped. "Do you  _know_  how many girls you've been with in the past few weeks?"

"You don't want to get so attached to something that it hurts when you lose it, remember?" James cried. "Don't tell me he's worth the pain and I'm not!"

"He's not involved in the war!" I shouted. "He's not rash enough to go and get himself killed over an insult! Don't you get it, James? I'm allowed to live! I need Calvin!"

"You need someone who'll love you, Lily, and you already know where I stand on that."

"James, you have girls  _chasing_  you around! You stopped blokes from even looking at me if you're around just by hexing all the ones that used to – I'm allowed to like boys, James! I'm allowed to date people! It's not your choice who I snog!"

"Lily, I'm asking you,  _please_  just give me a chance – please, Lily!"

"I'm not getting hurt!" I yelled at him. "I need someone that I know will always be there – I need someone steady, I don't need a loose cannon!"

"Sirius is a loose cannon!" cried James. "I'm not! And you snogged Sirius of your own free will – I  _saw_  you! Your best friend's guy, Evans!  _My_  best friend!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I need someone that'll hold me, too?" I asked quietly. "Have you ever once stopped thinking about yourself and your bloody Quidditch long enough to realize that I need someone like Calvin in my life? I don't need someone like you, James, or even someone like Sirius. I kissed you, too, in case you've forgotten!"

"You're not the same Lily I used to know," he said softly. "What happened to the brave Lily Evans that chased me into the forest one night to find out what prank we were planning for Snape the next morning? What happened to the Lily that didn't care about the pain being with someone might cause, as long as that person made her happy? I seem to recall you being half in love with Remus in our fourth year, right? Even though you've always known that he's not big on commitment – you still wanted to date him, you still kissed him, you didn't let fear of pain get in the way. What happened to that Lily? What happened to the Lily that used to reject me, not because of fear, but because she honestly didn't like me? What happened to the Lily that belonged in Gryffindor?"

"She's dead. Died with my mum. I'm not being hurt like that again, James. Calvin is good for me – he's a Prefect, a rule follower, and he's not a huge risk taker. You, on the other hand, are volatile, ready to explode at any moment, and I don't want to risk the pain that I know falling in love with you would cause me. I'm sorry, James. I'll see you later."

Why couldn't he just get the picture? Why did I have to keep explaining myself to him? Why couldn't he just leave me alone? He kept picking at scabs that had barely formed, and causing me to feel the pain all over again – I remembered my week-long relationship with Remus vividly. I remembered him eventually breaking it off because of James, remembered Remus's fear of commitment, remembered James breaking Remus's nose when he found out about us…Remembered the hurt in Marly's eyes when she'd seen me and Sirius only week or so ago…

"You don't need someone who sticks to the rulebooks, Lily. You need someone to even out your personality – someone with a good sense of humour, someone who can make you smile with no effort at all, someone who actually knows you – not some swotty Prefect!"

"Sorry, James."

I pushed past him and left the Prefects' lounge, making my way toward the Gryffindor girls' dormitories to see how Marly was doing.

"Hey, Lily, what're doing here?" Emmeline asked when I started up the steps. "Don't you have that Head's room or something?"

I shrugged. "Is Marly up there?"

"She just went in, which is why I'm leaving – I don't think I've ever been in a room with someone so angry at me. She really thinks Sirius…you know."

I shrugged again. "Well, you know Sirius's reputation. I guess it was only a matter of time until she suspected him of cheating on her. It sucks that she thinks it was you, though."

Emmeline sighed. "I know. And I have a feeling she's going to need him soon, what with…you know. Her parents and all."

I nodded. "I'll see you later, Em. Right now I should go check on her."

She waved her goodbye as I walked up the stairs. When I actually reached the dormitory I was looking for, Dorcas emerged from it, shot me a look that was part glare, part smile, and said, "How's life going?"

We had been fairly distant since the night at Dumbledore's office; she kept trying to convince me to go out with James and I kept insisting that it was a bad idea that would only cause pain.

"It's okay," I replied. "I've got a date with Calvin Whitby later."

She kept her face admirably blank as she said, "Cool. He's sweet."

With that, she continued to walk away. I raised an eyebrow, wondering vaguely if she was ever going to start behaving normally around me again.

"Hey, Lily, what're you doing here?" Alice asked when I entered the room.

"Just a little visit," I replied. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything…"

Alice and I had gradually made up, although every now and then we did have a short argument that usually included the words "Potter," "pain," "stupid," and "scared."

"No, we're just hanging out," Marly said, flicking her wand at the ceiling and making it turn bright orange. "Hey, Lily, how do I make those brill pattern things you like to do?"

I showed her the proper wand movement, and in a couple minutes, she was making the ceiling turn purple with green stripes and silver with red polka dots. I watched her absently for a bit, wondering how she had gotten so over her parents' deaths so quickly. Then I noticed that she was still all in black and that her eyes were a little bloodshot and realized that maybe she hadn't gotten over them – she was just mourning them more subtly than most people.

We sat together for a while, Alice curled up on her bed flicking through a magazine, and Marly messing with the ceiling as I watched her. She was rather good at the patterns, but when she tried to draw pictures of Alice and me, she failed horribly, something that made me laugh, really laugh, for the first time in a while.

"Hey, Lily, whatever happened to those Slug Club meetings Slughorn always used to ask you to go to?" Marly asked me after a while of silence.

"I don't know, I think he sent me an invitation for one this Friday night…And then, of course, there's the annual Christmas party the night before the holidays start – I don't know if I'll be going to either one, though," I said. "No one to keep me company but Snape, and he's not exactly the most fun person to be around in the world – I mean, I think James was part of the Slug Club at one point, but then he just stopped coming to the parties…And Frank was before he graduated, so at least I always had someone to talk to. Now it's just me and Snape and a few younger kids."

And some Hufflepuffs, but I could tell Marly got the point.

"Sucks for you, then," Alice said, tossing me the magazine. "You should take the quiz in there Friday at the party. It's interesting."

I glanced down at the magazine.  _Is it Love or is it Stupidity? Take our quiz to find out!_ Groaning, I said to Alice, "That's not funny!"

"Just take it, it's fun," she said, smirking. "And the results are surprisingly accurate – that's why I love these Muggle magazines."

I rolled my eyes but kept hold of the magazine as I left to go prepare for my date with Calvin.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in a denim skirt and black jumper, I met Calvin in the hallway in front of the Heads' common room.

"Hi, Lily. You look very pretty, as usual," Calvin murmured, sliding his arm around my waist and giving a little squeeze. Barely realizing I was doing it, I leaned into him.

"Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself."

It was true; he didn't. With his dark blue eyes, soft brown hair, and lovely smile, he was absolutely charming.

"So, what are our plans for tonight?" he asked. "I mean, we're not exactly officially dating or anything, so, er, where do we stand?"

I shrugged as we reached the door and I said confidently, "Septimus!"

The portrait of the drunken prince hiccoughed and swung open, revealing the room.

"Wow, Lily, this is really – wow…"

"It's really nice, though the effect is slightly marred by the fact that James Potter lives here, too," I said, grinning.

"Speaking of Potter, are you sure he won't be interrupting us tonight?" Calvin asked, slightly worriedly. "I mean, everyone knows he fancies you, and I don't really feel like being hexed into a turkey, so…"

"Potter won't be here, and if he is, we'll see who gets hexed into a turkey."

Calvin laughed and sat down on one of the couches, then patted the seat next to him, waggling his eyebrows in a joking but nevertheless suggestive manner. Shaking my head, but smiling all the while, I sat down beside him and lay my head nervously on his shoulder.

"I've liked you for a while, Lily," he said softly as he slung his arm around my shoulders. "I'm glad the feeling's mutual."

Suddenly I was seized with a desire to shout at him, "The feeling is NOT mutual, Calvin Whitby, because I am in love with someone else, someone who is right about him being good for me!"

"Me, too," I murmured instead, closing my eyes and imagining someone else sitting beside me, a free-spirited, foolhardy, beautiful man that I had been in love with for years despite everything…

_You're barking mad, Lily._

"I'm barking mad, Calvin," I informed him, picking my head up and sliding a few inches away from him. "And no one realizes it."

"I realize it just fine," he said playfully. "You really are crazy. Everyone knows, we just don't like to say anything in case you show off that hot temper you like to use on Potter."

I wasn't sure if he meant hot as in sex-appealing, or hot as in, "Your temper scares me, Lily Evans, so just stay away when you're angry!" Maybe he meant both. Instead of asking, I replied, "No, seriously. If you only knew what goes on in my head!"

_James knows. James would understand everything, because James is just like you in so many ways, except that he deserves his spot in Gryffindor, and you should be shoved into Slytherin for being so selfish!_

"Hopefully you don't constantly think of how amazingly sexy you find James Potter. That would be a little bit creepy."

Little did he know how close he actually was to my real thoughts.

"No, it's a little bit of a mixture between an intense love for Alice and a passionate affair with that bloke who was in the  _Prophet_  last week, what was his name? Corny Chocolate or something?"

"Cornelius Fudge," Calvin corrected. "Nice name, though, Corny Chocolate."

I laughed. "Well, it was close, wasn't it?" I pouted, pretending to be upset, and he chuckled.

"I really like you, Lily…do you think we should make a regular thing out of this?"

_No! Not with you, anyway!_

_Oh, sod off. Calvin's good-looking, he's smart, he's a Prefect, he's the perfect guy for me!_

"Yeah…yeah, Calvin. I really like you too."

_Liar._

***

"NO!" I screamed. "No – JAMES! DORCAS! MARLY! NO!"

My eyes flew open, and immediately, instead of their mangled corpses, all I saw was blackness surrounding me. Wondering what had woken me up, I looked around, and there was James, standing over me, his hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently.

"James – you're alive – Merlin, James – " I forced away the tears that were threatening to come and threw my arms around him. Looking surprised, he stood there, almost stiffly, and waited until I let go of him. "Where's Dorcas? Where's Marly? Are they alive? Are they okay?"

"Everyone's fine, Lily," James said soothingly, lighting his wand. "C'mon, I'll take you to see them if you want – I have Quidditch practise soon, though, so we'd better hurry."

Slowly, everything started to come back – I wasn't in some strange manor, I didn't have a child, I was at school…it was Thursday…I had a Prefects' meeting later, and before that, Charms, Double Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts…I was okay…I wasn't going to die…not yet, anyway…

"Come on, Lily," James said again, letting me bury my head in his shoulder as I continued to stop myself from crying.

_You know you like it there._

"Thanks, James, but I can make it myself from here."

His eyes seemed to flash with something remarkably like pain in the dim wand light, but I ignored it and turned away. "Thank you, though."

"Night, Evans," he muttered, and I heard his footsteps leaving behind me before the tears finally started to come, quickly and unceasingly, as I continued on my way to the girls' dormitories.

When I reached them, I was met with relief: Emmeline and Marly, though still not talking, were both getting out of bed for Quidditch practise.

"Marly – you're alive!" I cried, hugging her tightly. "You're not dead!"

"If I am, this isn't the Heaven I pictured," she grumbled. "More like Hell, with that crazy Potter making us get up so damn early…"

"And you, Dorcas!" I sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry! Please, please don't be dead!"

She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and replying, "I don't think I'm dead…"

I squeezed her so hard I might have cracked one or more of her ribs, but at the moment, I didn't care – here was Dorcas, alive…

"I'm sorry I've been so stupid," I said. "I'm sorry I've been so rude to you. I'm sorry, Dorcas."

She shook her head. "Apologise in the morning. Right now, I need some sleep, Lily."

"Right," I said quickly. "Sleep. Yes. You do that."

Needless to say, I did not fall back into dreamland that easily, nor did I particularly want to. Instead, I found myself following the Quidditch players out onto the pitch, despite the air that chilled me to the bones. I did not want to be alone at the moment, and I probably would be if I decided to just hang out in the Heads' common room…besides, here I would be able to make sure that two of the three people I had seen in my dream would stay alive, at least for a couple more hours.

The team did not take notice of my being there. The only one who really seemed fully awake was James, and he was too busy coaching everyone else.

"Sirius! Marly! I don't  _care_  that you two are fighting, we are a  _team_ , and you two are going to ruin our chances of winning the match if you don't cooperate! Emmeline, guard your goal hoops! PATIL, DON'T LET ME SEE YOU DROP THAT QUAFFLE AGAIN!"

I watched, vaguely amused even in my distressed state. As Marly and Sirius were the Beaters, they made for an awkward game, what with Marly hitting the Bludger toward Sirius and Sirius trying to defend himself without injuring any of his team mates. Emmeline, the Keeper, kept drifting away from the hoops as she watched their struggle along with Ravi Patil and Sammy Spinnet, two of the Chasers. As James was the other Chaser, he had to keep catching the Quaffle whenever one of the others dropped it to watch the ongoing argument. I wondered how it hadn't gotten old yet, what with all the Quidditch practise they had…

As I looked around, I spotted Kevin Abercrombie, the Seeker, trying desperately to find the Snitch in the almost blackness of the early morning. As it was November, the sun was not due to rise for a couple more hours, and I was shocked that all of the players seemed to be able to see each other just fine – I was shocked that  _I_  could see the players just fine.

"BLACK, MCKINNON!" James screamed over both the sounds of the Beaters' bats hitting the Bludgers and the howling wind. "IF YOU DON'T KEEP YOUR STUPID FIGHT OFF MY QUIDDITCH TEAM, I'M GOING TO KICK YOU BOTH OFF!"

"FINE!" Marly shouted back at him, right before she sank into a dive and grabbed something from the air. "And here's your stupid Snitch, Abercrombie! Potter, you bloody idiot, how is anyone supposed to find this in the middle of the night unless it's right in front of them? I'm going back to bed!"

She flew off the pitch, and James groaned.

"Sirius, if you two don't get back together soon, I'm seriously going to kick you both off. There're only two weeks till our first match, and we really need a team that can cooperate!"

"How the hell are we supposed to cooperate at three in the morning?" Sirius shouted in indignation. "We're all still half asleep!"

"He's right, Potter!" Sammy yelled. "You're scheduling these practises  _way_  too early!"

"Do you want to win against Ravenclaw next week, or not?" James snarled.

"It's not too hard to play Quidditch better than them, their team sucks!" Kevin retorted. "And besides, how are we going to play if we barely get any sleep?"

James shouted something I didn't hear, then practically jumped off his broom and went to the showers.

Sirius, Kevin, and Ravi went toward the boys' lockers; Emmeline and Sammy went to the girls'. I yawned and went to find Marly. It was obviously going to be a long day.

***

As I had predicted, every class of the day seemed to drag. Without Potions to take my mind off things, I kept envisioning the dead bodies of my friends lying before me. Defence Against the Dark Arts was taken over by Professor Binns for the week, as Saggese was not yet back from her special Auror business, and we were therefore treated to hour-long lectures about the theory of resisting the Imperius curse every other day. Transfiguration was not a practical, as we were supposed to be learning the theory of Transfiguring our own body parts into those of animals, and McGonagall didn't want us to make any mistakes. Charms was a review lesson of spells I already knew front and back.

Even though Calvin was at the Prefects' meeting, I couldn't force myself to talk to him. Instead, I actually took part in the conversation, a continuation of the last discussion about the holidays, which had been cut short, considering James hadn't been using his brain properly at the time.

My days started to fall into a sort of pattern: get out of bed, go watch James try to discipline his team, shower, get dressed, go to class, make Veritaserum in Potions, go see Calvin or go to a Prefects' meeting, read, study, do homework, study some more, try to sleep, and then it started all over again.

Meanwhile, my relationship with Slughorn grew more cheerful. He was one of my sources of amusement. Constantly offering me crystallized pineapple – which, incidentally, I didn't actually like – and invitations to his Slug Club parties, he was a nice way to break the monotony without having another argument with James – something that was happening less and less often, as I barely even spoke to him anymore.

Another thing that broke the monotony nicely was Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the season.

It was a chilly morning and I was sitting with my wand out, creating warm air for myself, Alice, and Dorcas as we waited for the match to commence. Alice was on my left with Dorcas next to her, and Peter was on my right with Remus on his other side. We sat in companionable silence for a bit, watching the game as Max Jordan, a sixth-year Gryffindor, commentated.

We were about twenty minutes into the game when Marly whacked a Bludger toward Sirius. Being the superb Beater he was, Sirius managed to block it and hit it at Ryan Chang, a Chaser for Ravenclaw who was in possession of the Quaffle. Sammy snatched it out of midair when Chang dropped it and flew wildly toward the goal hoops. She passed it to James, who passed it to Ravi, who scored through the left goal hoop.

The game continued in this manner until we were winning, seventy to forty, when Kevin finally managed to catch the Snitch. Loads of cheering came from the Gryffindors, but the team didn't seem as happy as usual. Marly immediately stalked off toward the showers, Emmeline following her. Sirius angrily walked off the pitch, his broom in his hand. James flew over him as if watching to make sure he didn't do anything rash. Sammy, Ravi, and Kevin simply looked puzzled, took our congratulations, and went to shower and change.

There was no party after the match. Marly, Sirius, and James didn't come back to the common room for a long time. Remus went down to the library with Dorcas to "study." Emmeline returned twenty minutes after we did, informing me that Marly refused to listen to her and promised to hex her into the next century if she didn't leave her alone.

"She really thinks Sirius and I went behind her back," Emmeline sighed. "It's sort of sad that she didn't trust him…"

"I think she didn't trust herself," I said. "She's always been with different types of guys, but she's never found one she really likes. I mean, a girl like Marly, it's not hard to see how she would attract some sleazy git, but at the same time, I wouldn't put it past someone like Sirius to fall in love with her. Maybe she just…doesn't think she can tell the difference."

Emmeline shrugged. "Whatever. I really don't get it. I think I'm going to go to bed, the match was tiring…even though I did let in four goals…"

She stood up and left me alone with my increasingly dark thoughts, thoughts that did not seem like they would be getting any happier any time soon.

***

The rest of November passed by as uneventfully as any other month of the year. Every day, the  _Daily Prophet_  reported news of Death Eater raids, giant or dementor attacks, and Inferi sightings, most of which were probably false anyway. The Ministry was going crazy trying to figure out who was under the Imperius Curse and who was doing things under their own free will. Mysterious disappearances were reported almost daily.

It was not until the beginning of December that Dumbledore contacted any of us again for our first Order of the Phoenix meeting. We found out about it through Professor McGonagall who, unsurprisingly, was already a member of the Order.

"We're having the meeting in your common room, Potter, Evans," she informed us one day after class. "Make sure to alert the others that we asked to come. I'm also changing the password that night so no one who might have found out since the beginning of the year can get in."

I nodded. "Thanks, Professor. We'll see you tonight, then."

The rest of the day passed so slowly that I was sure all the clocks in the school were broken. Despite myself, I was looking forward to the Order meeting. I only wanted to keep the students in the school, not to mention myself, safe. Otherwise I wouldn't be there…

_Yes, you would. You want to fight Voldemort. Admit it. That's why you're taking all the Auror classes._

_I used to, before I knew what I was getting myself into last year. And now it's too late to change classes._

_Yeah. Right._

"C'mon, Evans, Moony, we don't want to be late for our – er – Quidditch debate," James said, when our Prefect meeting was getting just a little too close to eight o' clock for his liking. "Let's go."

"'Quidditch debate'?" I hissed as we half-walked, half-ran to the Heads' Common Room. "Couldn't you have thought of anything better?"

"You weren't exactly doing a great job yourself," James hissed back. "You were too busy flirting with Whitby to even notice the time."

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't realise having some fun with my boyfriend was a crime!" I snapped.

"Shove it, you two," Remus said calmly as we reached the Gryffindor common room and walked into the alternate hallway. "Just get along for a couple hours and you can go back to snapping at each other's throats later."

I shot James one last glare before returning to the all too familiar act of rolling my eyes and ignoring him.

We reached the door and glanced around quickly, James peering at an old bit of parchment that looked like it had been scribbled all over with black ink, before Remus mumbled, "Cucaracha."

The prince tossed his purple pear into the air and then tried to catch it, but missed and fell flat on his face. A moment later, his portrait swung open and we entered the common room.

In the room were familiar faces – Frank, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Alice, Dorcas, Emmeline, Marly, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sirius, Peter, Moody, and Hagrid – but also unfamiliar ones, who Dumbledore introduced as Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Benjy Fenwick, Sturgis Podmore, Edgar Bones, Caradoc Dearborn (who had graduated from Hogwarts four years ago), and loads more whose names I couldn't remember.

 _Wow,_  I thought.  _So many people willing to risk their lives to help fight…_

_Yeah, when are you going to come around, Lily?_

"Welcome, both new recruits and old members, to the latest meeting of the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore began gravely, seating himself in a comfortable armchair by the fire. "I beg you all, take a seat, get comfortable, we might be here for a while."

Several of the witches and wizards, Marly, Moody, and Doge included, chose to sit down. Others, like James and Sirius, instead stood and watched Dumbledore. James was leaning in a dark corner, waiting, and Sirius was leaning on the back of a couch. I went to stand next to him, wanting to be near a familiar face amidst all the new ones.

Dumbledore frowned slightly at us and said, "It is a sad day, indeed, when I must call upon students to spy on fellow students. Miss McKinnon, Miss Meadowes, Miss Lawrence, Miss Vance, Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew…the nine of you could save lives by helping our cause, but at the same time you might lose your own. Are you willing to risk so much?"

_Yes, you are!_

_No, I'm not!_

For once, the first voice won, and I nodded gravely along with my friends.

"We have evidence that several students are working for the man that calls himself Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "I would like you nine to keep an eye out for their activities. I know that you can't sneak into the common rooms of other houses…" He paused and glanced at the corner where James stood, accompanied by Remus, who had somehow managed to stand beside him without any of us noticing. "But hopefully, in classes, someone might let something slip…It would be a terrible thing if anyone were murdered in our school again."

Again?

"We know that Lord Voldemort and his followers are after Muggle-borns and Muggles." Dumbledore inclined his head toward me. "They are prejudiced against them. I have received word of various fights that certain students have gotten into with Muggle-borns. Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, I hope that if you break apart any more of these fights, you will see fit to tell me or Professor McGonagall."

After he finished talking about the threat growing in the school, Dumbledore collected reports from the other Order members about various people they were watching, including Paul Travers, who, before his graduation three years previously, had been a Prefect.

"And now," Dumbledore said, several hours after we had first walked into the common room. "I think it is time to return this room to Miss Evans and Mr. Potter so that they can get some sleep tonight."

That was doubtful, what with all the new information I had heard about all the students whose parents were probably Death Eaters.

"I will let you know about our next meeting in the same way that I did about this one."

Apparently, everyone took this as a dismissal and started to leave. Those of us who actually belonged in the school returned to our proper places; those who didn't were Floo'd through a fire that Dumbledore had had connected to Floo network by some friend of his who worked there.

James was right, I decided as I curled up under the covers an hour or so later. Fighting was probably the better idea.

A moment later, after shoving the thought away forcefully, I sank into a sleep that was full of hooded, masked Death Eaters being spied on by Order members that had huge phoenix wings attached to their shoulder blades.


	12. Eleven

As the holidays approached, there was a sort of frenzy among those students not in the Slug Club to get into Slughorn's annual Christmas party. I overheard several people, including (unsurprisingly) the Marauders and the fourth years I had given detention, trying to figure out ways to sneak in. Unfortunately, the former seemed more likely than anyone to actually accomplish their goals. Their plan was to sneak Peter in (how, I had no idea – they were talking about him "acting the rat," whatever that meant) and have him slip some extra hard liquor into Slughorn's drink – he always got just a little bit too drunk at his parties, and this one would most likely be no exception – and then sneak in and act like they had been invited in the first place.

"And," added Sirius. "We'll act completely offended when he says he doesn't remember inviting us."

A part of me – a large part – wanted to report them. An even bigger part, however, was growing rather fond of the Marauders despite everything, including an increasing tension between myself and James.

Ever since my first date with Calvin, the strange relationship I had with James, which was somewhere near the thin and feathery line between enemies and friends – and, occasionally, romantic counterparts – was growing steadily colder. When we spoke, it was only because we had to, except to tell each other off, usually for excessive flirting during prefect meetings.

Meanwhile, one of the many reasons James and I were arguing in the first place, the war, was becoming increasingly fatal. Every morning the newspaper reported more and more deaths – not only of Muggle-borns, now, but also of half-bloods, "blood traitors" – wizards and witches who consorted with the likes of me – and even purebloods and Death Eaters were found dead, missing, or worse – Kissed or tortured to the point of insanity.

Suicide was also starting to happen more and more every day. Flicking idly through a two-day old copy of the  _Sunday Prophet_ one Tuesday afternoon a week after the first Order meeting, my fingers found the obituaries. Several Muggles were found having hanged themselves in Somerset. All of them lived in the same general neighbourhood. One of their suicide notes was featured in one of the many articles detailing the deaths throughout Europe and other parts of the world.

According to the victim, there was loads of mist around his home, and he couldn't stop feeling depressed. He also couldn't remember any time when he had been happier.

The  _Prophet_ suspected dementor breeding.

The  _Prophet_ was probably right.

I sighed and crumpled up the paper, throwing it with unusual force at the wall. It hit and fell to the ground. I flipped myself onto my stomach and buried my face in my pillow.

This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all.

About half the Dementors in the world currently guarded Azkaban prison. The other half worked with the Death Eaters. Dumbledore, however, as he had mentioned during the Order meeting, expected the rest of the Dementors to revolt by New Year's.

"What's wrong, Evans?"

I heard James's voice, heard the concern hidden beneath the scorn, as I turned my head slowly to face him.

"Hello, Potter. What brings you here on this fine afternoon?" I asked bitterly.

"I was going to ask you about Slughorn's drink preferences, but you haven't answered my question."

"And why would you need to know about Slughorn's drink preferences?" I inquired, already knowing, but not in the mood to tell him anything, either. "Another prank?"

"Evans."

"Potter."

" _Evans_."

I sighed. He wasn't going to give up.

"I'm just…thinking."

"About Whitby?" he asked quickly, almost hopefully.

I laughed mirthlessly. "Don't kid yourself, Potter."

"So you don't think about Whit the Shit?"

"Not the way you wish I would think about him. And don't call him that, please."

James raised himself up onto my desk and peered at me. "What's wrong, Evans?"

It was the same question as before, but this time the scorn was cast away, the concern in the forefront.

"I'm fine, Potter. Don't you have Quidditch practise or something?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?" he asked bitterly. "My team's refusing to practise. Marly and Sirius don't cooperate at all. Marly keeps hitting Bludgers at Sirius and Emmeline, which of course aggravates Emmeline and – get this – Kevin Abercrombie – he  _fancies_ her, you see."

"Ah, the drama of sports," I said, flipping myself back onto my stomach. "So what're you going to do?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I don't want to have to kick Marly off the team…she's such a good Beater…but teamwork is important, too…"

"Just give her some time," I said, my voice muffled against the pillow that it was barely millimetres from. "You know Marly. She'll get over it."

"I don't know. She really thinks Sirius cheated on her. It's sort of sad, really."

"She's going through a tough time. Her parents just died, and she's in love with Sirius…"

"If you love someone, you should trust them," James said, so seriously that I turned back over and looked at him.

"It's hard to trust someone like Sirius. He's a known player. I suppose – I suppose that just when she was about to start to believe he wouldn't hurt her, really believe it, she found him with Emmeline."

"She's wrong, you know," he said. "Sirius never cheated on her, he really was just looking for a present. He sucks with gifts…once he bought Remus a snow globe with an image of the moon in it – even though he knows Moony hates – so, read any good books lately?"

I raised my eyebrows. What had he been about to reveal? Why had he suddenly just changed the subject like that?

"What? Moony hates what? Snow globes?"

"Nothing," he said, too quickly. "I've got Quidditch practise. See you later."

"Potter, for such a good actor, you sure do suck at lying."

"I'm not lying!" he insisted, though his eyes were flitting toward the door.

"Potter…"

"Fine, I'm lying!" he shouted. "But I can't tell you the truth! I promised I wouldn't!"

"How come you were so obvious? I've seen you lie before, you can pull it off easily," I said, a bit puzzled. "And besides, you always manage to make yourself look – well, reasonably happy…even though I can tell you aren't."

He ignored the somewhat deep message and replied with his own: "I told you already, if you love someone you should trust them."

He looked at me, something odd in his eyes – or were those my eyes, reflected in his glasses?

"I've got Quidditch."

He jumped off the desk and hurried out of the room, leaving me speechless, something that maybe he had been going for.

However, as I walked down to the kitchens for some hot chocolate, I found myself smiling slightly, because he never had found out what had been wrong in the first place.

"Why the smirk, Evans?"

My head twitched a centimetre sideways to see Snape standing in a corner, leaning against the wall in a position that was uncannily like the one James had been in the night of the Order meeting, except with (much) less of the cockiness that James almost always practically reeked of and with more of the scent of wormwood – had he been brewing more of the Draught of Living Death?

"Why the odour, Snape?"

"Joined Potter in insulting me, have you? I always thought you were above such dim-witted actions."

"Actually, I was wondering about the wormwood," I said, keeping my voice as pleasantly calm as possible. Snape and I had a strange relationship – around anyone in the school, we were enemies. Around no one, we were almost friends, in a strange way. Mostly we'd only talked during Potions, exchanging witty banter, but I had been seated with Calvin this year, putting an end to any possible conversations with Snape.

"Still a sharp mind for potion-making, even if you are stuck with someone as witless as Whitby."

I almost smiled at his play on words, but forced it back, purely out of loyalty to Calvin.

"He's my boyfriend, Snape."

"Potter?" he asked, and his voice was bitter. "I was wondering when that might happen."

"No. Calvin Whitby."

"I always thought you'd opt for someone a bit smarter."

"Is there anything you need? I'm not in the mood to listen to you insult my boyfriend."

"No, nothing. Not yet, anyway."

I was left to ponder the meaning of his words alone as he sneered at me and departed.

Wondering what had just happened, I shrugged and continued on my path toward the kitchens.

Slughorn's Christmas parties had grown more and more extravagant by the year, and this one was no exception. When Calvin, looking handsome in sapphire blue robes, and I arrived at the party, the first thing we noticed was the table that was piled just a little too high with bottles of drink.

"Guaranteed not to make you drunk!" Slughorn informed us, so boisterously that I wondered if maybe he wasn't wrong. "Made the potion for it myself!"

"He's gone already," Calvin said, grinning.

"I wonder if the Marauders have already gotten to him," I said. "They were talking about spiking his drink."

"Idiots." He shook his head disdainfully.

"And why are they idiots?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and forcing the sudden anger out of my voice.

"Everything. Pettigrew, who's just stupid, Lupin, who's just their swotty little lapdog, Black, who thinks he's hilarious even though he isn't, really, and Potter, who thinks he has a chance with you, when he most definitely doesn't."

"Remus is my friend," I said coolly. "And so are the others, no matter how strange my relationship with James might be."

"What relationship?" he demanded angrily. "Are you going behind my back with  _Potter_ of all people?"

"No!" I cried. "But we – it's complicated, Calvin. We're just friends, and barely even that, but you don't have to  _insult_ him!"

It was strange, my defence for James, as I had been number one in insulting him all the years before, but now, something was different, something had changed, especially in the part of my mind – or maybe my heart – that was dedicated to him, to hating him, to loving him, to liking him…

_Loving him? I don't love him! I hardly even like him…_

_Yes, I'm so sure._

"Sorry," Calvin grunted, shoving me out of my thoughts and having the grace to look ashamed.

"It's alright," I murmured, leaning up and kissing him gently. "Will you get me a drink?"

He nodded and disappeared through the crowd as music – Celestina Warbeck, a favourite of mine and, surprisingly enough, Sirius's – started playing.

"He's got Celestina here?" I heard a boy somewhere near my elbow say eagerly. "She's so hot, I  _need_ her autograph!"

"She's over sixty," the boy's friend remarked dryly.

Grinning, I waded through the crowd to find Calvin.

"Butterbeer?" he offered. "Or something stronger?"

I glanced at Slughorn, who was dancing with Marly – she was, surprisingly enough, there with Danny Ogden, a close friend of Calvin's and a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team – part of the Slug Club because of an obvious connection to Odgen's Old Firewhiskey. I wondered what would happen to Danny once Sirius got here.

"Just butterbeer, thanks," I replied. "Maybe some oak-matured mead later, though."

"Mm, definitely," he murmured. "For now…would you like to dance?"

I smiled. "You know what? I would."

Celestina's chorus of banshees shrieking, she sang in her almost-beautiful voice about sorrow and love.

" _You love her, but you don't love me.  
Why can't you see how you're hurting me?_"

"What a sad song," Calvin remarked as we swayed back and forth. He was a very good dancer.

" _Please tell me that you'll leave her;  
Please tell me you don't love her.  
Just promise me you want me.  
Promise me you'll love me._"

"Repetitive," I said softly.

When the song was over, Calvin went to get us refills. I seated myself in a chair that was half-hidden near a dark wall behind the stage.

"You look nice, Evans," Sirius's voice murmured.

"Hello, Sirius," I said softly. "Did you spike his drink?"

"Nah, turns out he thinks he made a potion that'll stop him from getting drunk," he replied. "So he drank at least a bottle and a half of that mead he likes before the party."

I glanced back toward the dance floor. Slughorn, easily visible from where I sat, was now moving his arms and legs in a dance that could only be described as "the robot."

"Looks like you're right," I said, just as Marly and Danny started to dance in an extremely provocative manner.

"Want to dance, Evans?" he asked abruptly.

I considered it for a moment before standing up. "Trying to make Marly jealous?"

He blushed, and I made sure to make a mental note of it. I could see myself fifty or sixty years from now, telling my grandchildren the story of how I'd made Sirius Black blush.

"Well – yeah."

"It's not going to work."

"I don't care."

I shrugged and stood up. He took my hand and led me to the floor right next to where Marly was.

At first, we slow-danced – nothing else really fit the song. But when Marly saw us, her movements grew steadily more pornographic as she added thrusts and then started flicking her tongue at Danny's chin. Sirius, in turn, clutched me so tightly I nearly suffocated, his arms firmly around my waist, his hands guiding my hips, grinding them into his as Marly watched.

"Sirius, stop," I hissed. "Sirius! How much have you had to drink?"

For the first time, I could smell the liquor on his breath.

"Just a little longer, Evans," he pleaded. "Just till – "

"Till what? Till my boyfriend sees and breaks up with me? Till my best friend decides to hate me forever? I agreed to dance, Sirius, not to shag!"

James had been right. Sirius  _was_ a bit of a loose cannon.

"Evans, I love Marly."

"She loves you too."

"You can't love someone you don't trust."

"Yes, you can."

I gently pried his hands away from my body and turned around so that I was facing him again.

"She loves you, Sirius."

"James loves you, Lily, which is why I didn't actually shag you on the spot in the middle of the common room that night."

"As if I'd let you."

"C'mon Evans, you know you love me."

"Oh, yes, definitely, Sirius, as much as you love Lucius Malfoy."

"Urgh, that disgusting Death Eater!" he cried, and then smiled wistfully. "I can see why James is in love with you." He winked wolfishly at me. "You're hot."

With a quick kiss to my cheek, he, too, disappeared into the moving bodies. Wondering what had happened to Calvin, I wandered idly to the drinks table and got myself some of Slughorn's mead.

When I first brought the glass to my lips, however, I was spun around, and spilt the drink all down the front of the dark green and more baring than usual dress that Marly had gotten me for some birthday.

"Calvin? What was that!" I demanded, setting the glass aside and taking out my wand to dry myself off.

"Why were you dancing like that with Sirius Black?" he snarled, gripping me by the wrist so tightly it hurt.

"Calvin, get off me!" I snapped. "It was for a friend!"

"A friend, eh? Trying to make Potter jealous by dancing with his best friend?"

"Calvin,  _get off me!_ "

"Not until you tell me why you were dancing with Black like that!"

"Calvin!"

He seemed to realize what he was doing and released me.

"Lily, tell me what you were doing with him and why you were practically  _banging_ him on the dance floor for all to see."

"Calvin Whitby, I was helping him make Marly jealous, and I'll thank you not to ask me again!"

"Fine," he sneered, pressing his lips to mine. I smelled Firewhiskey on his breath and immediately realized why he was acting this way.

His tongue forced its way into my mouth – it took me a minute to realize I didn't want it there, and by then, we were against a wall and completely snogging. Pulling away would cause me to just hurt my head, so instead I sealed my mouth against him and waited for him to back off on his own.

Despite his drunkenness, he stopped almost instantly. "What's wrong?" he asked, and for a minute he was the old Calvin, the sweet Calvin.

"When you're not drunk, so I can enjoy it, okay?" I murmured, trying to let him off easily. "For now, maybe we should get you back to your common room."

I immediately realised my mistake as he leered at me. "Alright, Lily. In the common room, then."

"No!" I said quickly. "Let's stay here – let's dance!"

He looked disappointed for a moment, but then allowed me to lead him back to the dance floor, where he wrapped his arms around me and gripped me to him.

"I love you, Lily," he mumbled against my hair.

My eyes flickered to the corner Sirius had been standing in, and I saw him there again, this time with James, whose hand was gripping a drink as he watched us.

"Erm – would you look at that, the sky is blue!" I cried, ducking out of his arms and running for it.

I did not see Calvin again that night, or even the next morning. I left for my house early that day, only an hour or so after sunrise.

The grounds were covered in snow when I woke up, and more was falling gently from the sky. I walked to Dumbledore's office for the prearranged Floo he'd promised me.

I entered my home, forcing back tears as I remembered what had happened the last time I had been here. I had to see my dad – I missed him more than I could put into words.

The first person I saw when I walked into the hallway, however, was not my father. It was not even Petunia.

It was Vernon Dursley.

"Hello, Vernon. Here to see Petunia?" I asked my sister's disgusting boyfriend. With dark hair and small, beady eyes, he was the picture of a "perfect" boyfriend…not.

"Hello, Lily. I am. You look, er, nice." He blushed as he stuttered this.

Did I mention he had a rather amusing liking for me?

"Thank you," I replied, not returning the compliment because he did not look nice at all. "Is my father home?"

Vernon nodded. "He's still asleep. I've only just gotten here. Petunia asked me over so we could discuss our wedding. It's in February, you see, so she wants to do all the planning now."

"Ah," I said, nodding. "She's making you come here this early?"

He shrugged. "Petunia's organised. I like that in a woman."

I couldn't believe I was having civilised conversation with this man – he was completely disgusting in every way possible, from his overly shiny shoes to the way his eyes kept dropping from my face to my chest.

"So that's why you dislike me so much," I sighed, deciding to taunt him a bit. "I'm more messy than James Potter's hair."

He didn't know James, yet this comment made him scowl. "I don't dislike you."

"Sure you don't, handsome," I said softly, winking and passing by him, making sure to bump his hip with mine as I started up the staircase.

My father woke up about an hour after my arrival to the sounds of me making breakfast in the kitchen. Vernon had taken Petunia back to his house – said he was "uncomfortable with that strange sister of yours, Pet."

"Lily!" he cried upon seeing me. I instantly threw my arms around him and squeezed him in a way that I had always reserved especially for my father. He hugged me back affectionately.

"I missed you, Dad," I mumbled, not letting go.

"I've missed you, too, Lily. It's been hectic here, with Petunia's wedding plans and everything."

I backed away a bit and looked at him. There was stubble on his chin – not out of place, as he had just gotten out of bed. Bags under his eyes showed that he, like most, was not sleeping well. New frown lines and random wrinkles proved that he too was more stressed than ever before.

"Dad, are you alright?"

"Given the circumstances?" He laughed. It was a hollow and dead sound. "I'm splendid."

"I love you, Dad."

He smiled despondently and hugged me to him. "I love you too, Lily. I love you."

I really had missed him – his dark red hair, peppered with grey; his sparkling blue eyes, so much like my sister's, yet filled with love instead of animosity; the freckles that were the trademark of the Evans' – Petunia liked to cover hers up with makeup, but even though I occasionally hated my own, I wore them proudly, just like my father, just like my mother.

"Well, we've got a couple weeks, let's have a bit of fun!" I said, a bit too cheerfully, trying to fake happiness.

He nodded and wrapped an arm around me. "Let's start with breakfast, shall we?"

I grinned, nodded, and spent a very enjoyable morning throwing flour at my father, who replied by soaking me in raw egg.

The next morning found me in London with Petunia, Sirius, and James of all people. My father had wanted us to spend some "quality sister time" together, and we had decided – together, for once – to do some Christmas shopping for our friends and remaining family. Surprisingly, James had been in London with Sirius, both wandering around idly, looking laidback but oddly alert at the same time.

Petunia had seemed shocked to find I was acquainted with two good-looking and well-mannered boys and was, amusingly, quite taken with Sirius. Both were exceedingly polite towards her, although they made continuous vague innuendos toward me – something Petunia seemed almost jealous of for a bit.

"Your friends seem nice," she told me as they walked into some shop or another, practically begging us to stay out. "How come you don't act more like them? Aren't they - _freaks_ too?"

"They're both wizards, if that's what you mean," I replied coolly. "And I don't act more like them because you've been extremely rude to me ever since I started at Hogwarts."

This wasn't entirely true, and we both knew it, but for once Petunia decided not to argue. She had only started hating the wizarding world because of a prank I'd pulled on her once – I'd given her a bogie flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean and sworn it was toffee the summer after first year, and since then she'd had an exaggerated animosity toward both magic in general and, well, me.

"Hello, darling Evans," Sirius said smoothly, walking out of the shop and throwing his arm around my shoulders. I ducked out of his grip.

"I've only just seen you two minutes ago, Black, there's hardly any need for you to greet me again."

"Hello, Sirius," Petunia said, smiling widely at Sirius and straightening her salmon pink coat. "How was the shop?"

"Nothing interesting, really, just loads of jewellery. Potter, overly whipped bloke he is, poor soul, is buying his, er, friend a Christmas present."

"Sounds interesting," I said blandly. "Let's go into Diagon Alley, shall we? I want to get Dad one of those Streelers from the Magical Menagerie…he's a huge animal freak, you see."

"Yeah, that sounds good," James's voice said from behind me. I turned around to find him staring toward the place I knew the Leaky Cauldron was in. "Let's get some drinks first, though, shall we?"

He dragged us into the Cauldron and bought himself and Sirius some Firewhiskey. I, on the other hand, got myself and Petunia a bit of butterbeer. She actually seemed to like it when she sipped from the bottle, but a moment later made a face that suggested she hated it. I knew it was an act designed to preserve the supposed hatred between herself and me, but it wasn't going to work today. For some reason, I was in an unusually good mood. I liked to think it had more to do with being at home again than seeing James and Sirius, but I knew I was wrong.

"Are you two finished yet? I don't fancy walking around Diagon Alley with a couple of drunk seventeen year olds."

"Eighteen next month!" Sirius said cheerfully.

"Shut it, Black," James said, slapping him upside the head.

"That's it, both of you are drunk enough. Let's go."

I grabbed James by the hand and pulled. Surprisingly, he stood almost instantly and did not struggle against me at all. Sirius jumped up after him and whipped out his wand to tap on the correct bricks to enter Diagon Alley.

Petunia, I saw, looked utterly terrified.

That was when I realized I was still holding James's hand, making it look a bit like we were a couple. Part of me wanted to keep my hand there, but a larger part tugged it away forcefully.

"Let's go into Flourish & Blotts, I want to get Remus a book by that Muggle-born bloke – what was his name, Lily? Shake-me-silly?"

"Shut up, Sirius, you know perfectly well it was Shakespeare," James said. "You aren't funny, honestly."

"I am too funny!" Sirius pouted. Petunia gave a high-pitched giggle. I stared at her. She blushed.

The bookstore scared the living daylights out of Petunia, but she seemed to find it somewhat amusing at the same time. Whilst flicking through a huge book that screamed when you went to page six hundred sixty-six, she actually laughed a bit.

"That's smart, that is," she said, and then asked me how much it cost.

"A Galleon and three Sickles," I replied, glancing at the price that was etched into the back. "D'you want it?"

She made a face. "What the hell's a Galleon?"

I sighed and explained wizarding money to her. She didn't seem to take most of it in, however, as she was busy watching Sirius choose between  _Romeo and Juliet: The Unabridged Edition, complete with Shakespeare's Idiotic Incantations_  and  _Macbeth: Ramblings from a Genius_ , two titles that were completely contradictory, yet somehow strangely appealing.

"Buy him both," I suggested. "Just make sure he doesn't actually use any of Shakespeare's idiotic incantations."

Sirius shrugged and took both books before his eyes fell to another -  _Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming._

"Hey, Prongs, it's me!" he cried, pointing to the cover of the book, where a Grim sat perched beside various other death omens.

"Shut up, you idiot," James hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. Wondering what Sirius meant, I asked, "Sirius, you aren't a Grim, are you?"

"No, of course not," he said, too quickly. I raised an eyebrow but decided to leave the question for when he was a little drunker, maybe around New Year's Eve, if I saw him then.

"What's this?" Petunia asked, her hand fingering a book about tea leaves. "Do you lot read these things too? I thought that was rubbish."

"It is," I replied. "Don't bother looking at it."

"I want it, Lily. How do I pay for it?"

Sighing, I took the book and a few others that I wanted for myself – mainly spell books they didn't have at Hogwarts that would keep me busy for a few long nights – and paid for them with Sirius.

The rest of the day passed surprisingly pleasantly. Around Sirius and James, Petunia seemed to change a bit, grow a little more laid back, and even acted a little bit nicely toward me, something I knew would stop as soon as Sirius and James disappeared again, but didn't mind at all while it lasted.

We ended up having lunch in a Muggle caf , and our conversation turned, inevitably, to You-Know-Who.

"He's gotten more of Azkaban Prison's Dementors on his side," James informed me. "It hasn't been in the  _Prophet_ yet, but you can be sure it will be by next week at least."

"Why not today?" I asked, frowning.

"The  _Prophet_ 's usually a bit slow on the uptake, if you catch my drift," Sirius answered, moving the plastic straw in his Coke around idly. "Most things aren't in there at all…lots of what does make it in there is lies, put there by a Minister who believes that if the public thinks he's doing things right, other people will too. And then there's Barty Crouch, who's going nuts with the Auror office, thinking that lowering ourselves to the Death Eaters' level will help catch them easier…"

"How so?" I wondered.

"Unforgivables, sending people to Azkaban without trials, things like that," James responded. "And the Dementors that  _are_ still at Azkaban are acting up – Frank told me that yesterday they refused to Kiss four known and captured Death Eaters, and it's getting worse by the day."

Petunia ate a forkful of her salad and chewed slowly, not looking at any of us, choosing instead to focus on the lettuce and chicken that adorned her plate. "What're Dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. They're horrid things, they like to suck out all your happiness.," I said.

"And your soul, if they Kiss you," Sirius added.

"All the mist everywhere? That's them breeding," James offered. "Almost all working for Voldemort…"

I forced myself not to flinch at the name, but my hand, which was gripping the spoon I was drinking my soup from, twitched a bit, causing the hot liquid to splash back into its bowl. James shot me a knowing look but for once chose not to say anything.

It was nearly four when Sirius and James waved their goodbyes and Disapparated, and when Petunia and I boarded the Underground to take us back to our home.

"So do you still hate us all?" I asked.

"Of course I do! You're thick, the lot of you. Why are you letting that Voldemort fellow take over the world? You've got magic! Why don't you use it, instead of just letting him do as he pleases?"

"The trouble with that philosophy, sister dearest, is that You-Know-Who's got magic, too!" I snapped, trying to keep my voice quiet so that no one would hear us and wonder why we were out in public and not in an asylum. "And we're doing all we can to keep as much at bay as possible!"

"He's only one man, Lily. Surely with all of you, you can kill him or something."

"It's not that simple."

"Why do you call him You-Know-Who?" she asked after a bit.

"I don't want to attract his attention," I mumbled, feeling a bit stupid. Even Petunia could say his name, but I couldn't. "It was his fault Mum died."

It was a relief to say it; it was  _his_ fault my mother had died. Not mine. Well, not entirely, anyway. I didn't know when I had come to believe this, but I found as I told Petunia so that I was not lying.

"Oh."

We were silent for a while, and when we went back home, it was as if none of our previous vague politeness toward each other had ever happened, and it was back to business as usual for us.

A part of me regretted it. A part of me wanted to be friends with Petunia, because, in a way, she was right – with so many of us, and only one of him, how come we couldn't get rid of You-Know-Who?

Early Christmas Eve morning, Sirius, Peter, and Remus were all at my house – in the kitchen, actually – when I woke up to make breakfast.

"What're you three doing here?" I asked, yawning, slightly self-conscious about the fact that my hair looked like a small rodent was living in it and that I had not yet even washed my face. "Without your other wheel, no less?"

"James was being annoying, so we wondered if his future wife would be any more interesting," Peter replied.

"I'm not – " I sighed and decided not to respond to the "future wife" thing. "Want some breakfast?"

There was a chorus of "Hell, yeah!" that I quickly silenced, due to the fact that my father was in great need of a bit of sound sleep and my sister was upstairs with Vernon, who had spent the night, and I wasn't in the mood to explain to them why I had three men sitting at the kitchen table who seemed to think I was going to marry their best friend.

I set about making them, and the rest of my family, breakfast – eggs (scrambled with cheese, garlic, and black pepper, because otherwise they had no flavour), pancakes (blueberry – they were too plain without them, and I found that chocolate stuck to the pan), French toast (with honey, not maple syrup, because we were short on the latter and I found the former much more endearing), and coffee (with warm milk, not cream, because I had grown up drinking it that way).

The Marauders three seemed to take great pleasure my cooking, and when my dad descended the flight of stairs, he seemed to enjoy both the food and their company, except for when they informed him that I would be marrying their friend James the Prongie Potter.

"Ignore them," I said, biting into the scrambled eggs my mother had taught me how to make years ago. "I can't stand – ARGH, POTTER, GET OFF OF ME!"

He had just Apparated and landed right on my lap, practically crushing me.

"Sorry, Evans, hard to Apparate places you don't generally spend much time in," he said, standing up and brushing himself off. "Although, in the future, I hope to live in your lap."

"Hello, I'm assuming you're James the Prongie Potter?" my father inquired. Sirius and Peter burst out laughing. Remus and I rolled our eyes – it was a habit I liked to think he'd gotten from me during the short week that we had dated. James, however, looked dumbfounded.

"Hello, sir. I'd be James Potter, no Prongie included, although these idiots find it amusing to call me Prongs every now and then," James said in a tone of politeness I had never heard him use before. "I've come to collect them and apologise for their unwelcome entry through your gracious doorstep."

He was babbling and he knew it, but didn't seem to care. Suddenly he dropped down on his knee and asked, in a voice of earnest anxiety, "Mr. Evans, I would like to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

"Don't you think you should be asking me this question?" I asked him, scowling. "This isn't funny. The answer's always going to be 'no,' and you should get it through your thick skull!"

The mask flickered, but his smile remained as he maintained the facade that was happiness and confidence.

"Well, then, I'll just be leaving now. Marauders, let's go, we don't want to intrude on the Evans' hospitality any longer."

"Actually, Loony-Moony, Wormy-Tail, and I were just befriending Lily's old man," Sirius said. "You can go, though, Prongie-Wongie, nobody seems to want you here."

James frowned. "Evans wants me here, don't you Evans?" he asked me.

"Oh, yes, it's all I've ever dreamed of and more," I said dryly. "Let me go and get my dream journal from Divination so I can show you."

"I always knew you were in love with me!" James said; his voice was falsely happy, and I could hear a note of wistful sadness behind it.

"C'mon, James, let's go," Sirius said, glancing at me and seeming to realize the same thing I had.

"Yeah, Wormtail, I'll help you," Remus told Peter, who still sucked at Apparition.

They disappeared with a harmonious and resounding  _crack!_ , leaving me with my very confused father and my dreadfully muddled thoughts.


	13. Twelve: From James Potter's Perspective

I sat in the waiting room in St. Mungo's, alone this time, despite Sirius's half-hearted offer to come along. Today was Christmas, my father's favourite holiday, and yet here he was, trapped in his own mind in the St. Mungo's second floor, home to those who were held captive by magical illnesses, even though I knew it wasn't an illness, even though we both knew it was poison.

My mother was with him, in the chair beside his bed, where she had taken to sitting and reading to him. It was one of the only things she did lately. I had spent all of my time so far either here with her, or with the Marauders wandering London. It was painful to stay in my own home – everything reminded me of my dying father, or of Lily, who my mind continually dwelled on, even in the precious few hours of sleep I got each week.

The Healer that was walking toward me looked grim.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked, and I nodded. "Your father, as you know, is suffering from an unknown wizarding illness. We are not able to find a cure, and he is steadily getting worse."

I knew this, and yet she saw fit to repeat it, as if her doing so would make me feel better, but really it was just cementing it in my mind, making it somehow worse, because I was slowly realizing he was not going to get better this time.

"Yes, I know that," I said tersely.

"Your family must be going through a difficult time right now, and therefore it pains me greatly to tell you this."

I looked up, half-expecting her to tell me that Voldemort had taken over the hospital, even though I knew he hadn't.

"Your mother has been diagnosed with the same illness."

"No!" I shouted, springing out of my seat, the book I had been flipping through without really registering anything dropping to the floor. "She hasn't! She can't have been!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. We have given her the bed beside your father's, and when she is awake, she tries to communicate with him. There is no evidence that he is responding."

Her voice was oddly emotionless, as if this meant nothing to her, as if she didn't care, but really, could I blame her? What did it matter to her if my parents died and left me an orphan?

"Is there any hope for either of them?" I asked, desperately wishing for something I knew didn't exist. "Please," I added in a whisper.

She did what I knew she would; her head hung limply from her neck, as if she had seen too much and simply couldn't bear to look at anything anymore; it turned slowly, left right left right.

No hope. It was the one thing that I had always relied on – hope. Hope was what had gotten me through the previous few years with Lily -  _Don't worry, James, she'll fall for you soon!_  Hope was what had brought me here today -  _It'll be alright, we Potters are strong!_

But no hope meant nothing to keep me going. No reason to stay alive. No reason to be here.

"Can I see them?" I asked, voice haunted, hands clenched, eyes wide.

The Healer picked her head up, put it back down, up down up down.

I felt like I was in a dream as I moved forward mechanically. Nothing around me existed, just me and my legs and my feet. One foot in front of the other. Left right left right. Keep going. Turn the corner. Up the stairs. Left foot right foot left foot right foot.

My throat hurt. It was raw, as if I had been screaming.  _Left foot, right foot, left, right, left, right._  My sneakers in front of me, my nose making strange sniffling noises. Eyes blurring a little, as if I was crying.

No hope, left right left.

I was in front of their door, room number two sixty-eight. Hand in front of me, on the doorknob, turn to the left, the door creaked open.

My mother, lying in a bed, sitting up with a book in front of her. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Hello, James. How come you haven't come to visit me sooner? Was it that horrid nurse? She keeps lying to me and telling me there isn't a single Cornish pixie in the room, we'll just have to prove her wrong, won't we?"

Delirious. My mum was delirious. Next came a fever, and then the coma-like state my father was in. And then death. The one word I didn't want to think about. The one thing that was certain about this sickness.

"Whenever we see someone with an illness that goes through different stages, we are almost always sure that they will die at the end unless we find the proper cure."

They didn't know he had been poisoned, and they hadn't listened to me when I'd tried to tell them. Probably because half the Healers here were working for Voldemort anyway.

I pulled out a chair and sat next to my mother, who was back to her book, which I saw was titled,  _Voices All Around You: Do You Hear the Supernatural?_  and was apparently a Muggle book, because the pictures didn't move.

I didn't know how long I sat there, watching my dad sleep and mum read her book, every now and then giggling loudly or asking me if I'd heard what the faeries were saying. It must have been a long time, though, because when the next Healer came in to "run some tests," he also kicked me out because it was past visiting hours.

"You let my mum stay here," I protested. "Why not me?"

"You are not married or otherwise attached to either of the patients residing in this room," he replied tonelessly, as if the words were being recited from memory. "Your presence would only disturb our medical personnel."

"That isn't fair! They're my parents!"

He glared at me and replied irritably, "Life isn't fair, kid. Go home."

He was right. Life wasn't fair. Shooting him one last dirty look, I gave my mum a quick kiss on the cheek, which was burning hot already. She let out a loud snore.

"See you tomorrow, Mum," I promised, flicking a hand through my hair and turning to my father. It hurt to look at him – he was me, but older, with blue eyes instead of hazel and square glasses instead of round ones. "Bye, Dad. I love you."

The next morning I woke up to a black envelope with the St. Mungo's seal in the front.

I didn't even have to open it. I knew he was dead. I knew there was nothing I could do.

But I still picked up the letter, tore it open, and skimmed it, then crumpled it up and threw it at the wall.

"NO!" I shouted. Anger pulsated threw me; whoever had done this would pay. "NO!"

"Prongs?" a weary Sirius was coming down the stairs now, rubbing his eyes. "Why you shouting?"

"He's dead, Sirius. My dad. He's dead."

Saying the words out loud made them somehow more final. Suddenly the anger was gone – instead, my insides were filled with grief. Not the hot, burning, passionate grief you read about in books – no, this was like ice flooding my veins, freezing me from the inside out.

"Your dad?" Sirius repeated. "No! He can't be dead! No!  _No!_ "

"Let's go play Quidditch," I snarled, not even bothering to put on a shirt despite the weather I knew would be cold. It didn't matter anymore, really. My father was dead.

"You need to put on some clothes," Sirius said shortly, grasping my forearm. "You can't play Quidditch in subzero weather."

I looked down. I was in pyjama pants and black socks. Growling, I Summoned a shirt from my bedroom, pulled it on, and left the house.

The broomshed was oddly silent and cold. There was nothing there but the spiders and the brooms – my Silver Arrow, Sirius' Nimbus 1500, Peter's Cleansweep Three, Remus' Comet 220, several others belonging to various cousins, and even my dad's old Moontrimmer.

I grabbed the Nimbus for Sirius, hesitated, then took the Moontrimmer, too, and ran back outside to the blistering cold, mounted my dad's broom, and took off.

I could hear Sirius shouting for me. I could tell he was calling for me to come down. But I didn't want to. I wasn't going to.

I flew further; up and up and up and up.

" _Son, this Moontrimmer can get to record-breaking heights! Watch yourself, now!"_

My father's voice, bragging about his broom the first time I'd ridden it, echoed through my skull.

" _Here, have this Silver Arrow, best broom available, except maybe the Nimbus, but I don't like those big-shot brooms they try to sell you at Quality Quidditch Supplies."_

A congratulatory present during my second year at Hogwarts when I'd made the team as the youngest Chaser in decades.

" _And then he huffed, and he puffed, and blew their house in!"_

Bedtime stories when I'd been two – The Three Little Pigs had been my favourite.

"James, it's snowing! You have to get down here! You're going to get sick!" The wind carried Sirius's voice up to me. I laughed mirthlessly.

" _I told you, Charlie, you can't take him out on your broom in the middle of January! He'll catch pneumonia, and then what'll we do?"_

_"You've been reading too many of those Muggle books, Dorea! And besides, we Potters never get sick!"_

I was cold, so very very cold…

"WE POTTERS NEVER GET SICK!" I screamed, and the anger was back, only now it was anger at the hospital for not helping him, at my dad for not being strong enough to resist the poison.

Words from the parchment lingered in my mind's eye -  _No possible cure…late last night…regret we couldn't help him…_

"I'm sure you do, you bloody clots!"

My throat was ready to tear, both from the screaming and the cold air, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

So cold…

Up, up, up. Toward the clouds – up, up, up.

The repetition of words in my head relaxed me, brought me comfort…

I was millimetres away from a tree.

"Ah, that's not good," I said shakily; there was a sharp jolt of pain, and then I sank into the refuge that was unconsciousness.

"He's going to be okay, though?"

"Just a bit of hypothermia, he'll be fine."

"Are you sure? He isn't really sick, is he?"

"It was just a bit cold to be out in such thin clothes. Just some Pepper-Up, he'll be fine."

I opened my eyes slowly. I was in a place I thought might be my bedroom. A woman – a Healer? – was standing over me, a bottle of something in her hand.

"Ah, you're awake!" she beamed, handing me first my glasses and then the bottle. "Drink up, then. Mr. Black, I'll be at St. Mungo's if you need me again!"

She was perky and annoying and I wanted her to leave so she would stop triggering the pain in my head.

Sirius looked down at me with concern. "You alright, mate? When you fell, I thought you were going to…"

He left the sentence hanging, but I knew what he was thinking.

"Sorry," I mumbled, downing the liquid without caring if it was poison or not. My dad was dead, my mum was dying, Lily hated me, what did it matter?

He disappeared for a few minutes and returned, to my surprise, with a tray loaded with sandwiches. "Moony's here, he made these, put some heating charm on them so they would stay warm…he's downstairs with Wormtail."

I nodded and bit into a pleasantly hot cheese and tomato sandwich – an odd combination, but my favourite ever since a house-elf had made it for me in third year.

"That Healer woman's okay to trust, she's related to Moony in some way or another."

I nodded again and kept chewing without really taking in anything he was saying. I knew Sirius, and this was how he acted when he didn't want to talk about a certain subject. Obviously he was getting close, if he was talking about Healers and St. Mungo's.

"The hospital sent a bill. You know, for – for your dad."

There it was. I took another sandwich – this one was roast beef and Swiss.

"It's a pretty big bill, but Moony says you only have to pay a bit of it because of insurance.

Chew, chew, chew, swallow. Chew, chew, chew, swallow.

My throat screamed for water. I clawed at my bedside table and found the jug.

Sirius took it and poured me a glass. I drained it. He poured me another.

Sip, chew, chew, chew, swallow. Sip, chew, chew, chew, swallow.

"Er, they sent another letter, too."

Sip, chew, chew, chew, swallow.

"They want you to come see your mum. Say she got worse. Whatever variant of the disease she got was worse than your dad's."

A higher dose of poison, then.

Swallow, chew, sip, chew, swallow. Chew, swallow, swallow, sip.

"She's already in the coma stage. They say she's going to die soon."

My lips met the glass again, sucked a bit at air, but found no water. I brought the glass away again. It shattered in my hand.

"Whoops," I said softly. Then – "When can I see her?"

Emotion was flooding back into me with warmth. Suddenly I was filled with fear, filled with anger, with sorrow and hatred and pain.

"As soon as possible. They say this might be her last night. They say you can spend it with her."

I threw the entire plate of sandwiches at the wall. The plate shattered. The sandwiches fell to the floor, ruined by the glass.

"Don't eat those," I said unnecessarily, pushing the covers off – instant cold – and pulling a heavy cloak over the tee-shirt and pyjamas I was still wearing.

"Prongs, don't do anything stupid," Sirius said.

"I'm not the stupid one," was my reply as I shoved my feet into sneakers. One in front of the other – left, right, left, right.

There was Remus, and there was Peter, looking at me sympathetically.

"Sorry, Prongs. I know how close you were with your dad."

My ears did not register whose voice it was, but I thought it might be Moony.

Destination, Deliberation, Determination, or whatever order it was supposed to be – I turned on my heel, a loud crack, I was in front of the shop with the ugly mannequin.

"I'm here to see my mother," was the next thing that came out of my mouth. Then, "Hello, Mum."

I sat beside her for hours, holding her hand, reading aloud to her…

Her eyes were half open and glassy, the hazel obscured beneath her eyelids, only white showing. Strawberry blond hair fell over her face, stuck to her forehead, which was shiny with sweat.

She was dying.

More time passed, more hours, more reading, this time of  _Romeo and Juliet,_  her favourite book.

I didn't register the words on the pages. Didn't care about the epic love story. Didn't notice the people coming into the room.

I did, however, notice the gentle squeeze of my hand right before something started beeping and Healers rushed in.

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid your mother is dead."


	14. Thirteen

Ever since I'd been a little baby, my family had had several Christmas traditions. My mother's favourite, however, had been to sit all together with as many family members as we could gather and sing Christmas carols on Christmas Eve.

So there we were that cold winter afternoon: huddled in my living room, the television turned off for once, a fire roaring in the fireplace (kept at bay with several Charms I liked to use around Petunia, mainly to freak her out…literally, actually, since she considered everything about magic freaky).

My father sat in the armchair closest to the television, his favourite seat and the one usually reserved for him. Petunia, Vernon, and I were crowed together on the loveseat. The couch that my mother had favoured, however, was left empty, and it had been an almost subconscious decision that left none of us sitting there.

None of us said anything for a moment, and then my father started in his deep, rumbling voice, "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright."

I found myself singing along without even realising it, and by the end, Petunia and Vernon had joined us as well. I was stunned to realise that there were tears in my eyes. I swiped at them with the back of the festive red and green cardigan I was wearing over dark jeans. I had never cried during our family version of carolling before.

"Jesus, Lord, at thy birth," we finished, and the sound was both beautiful and melancholy as we looked at each other. Even Vernon had the grace to look sad as Petunia sniffled.

Silent Night had been my mother's favourite song of all time.

I rose abruptly and left the room. Alone in the kitchen, I walked to the sink and splashed my face with icy cold water, then sat down at the kitchen table and buried my head in my hands. It was hard to believe that just this morning I had kicked James out of this same kitchen.

"It isn't fair," I whispered to the table. "She shouldn't have died."

My mother had loved Christmas.

"This is all my fault – maybe I should never have gone to Hogwarts. Should never have become a witch. Maybe I should've just stayed here and  _not_ attracted Voldemort's attention just by being myself."

It felt strangely good to say the name, strangely releasing, like telling a secret that had been eating at me for months.

I said it again. "Voldemort.  _Voldemort._ See, I can say it. He isn't here. It's okay."

I returned to the living room, where my father had clicked on the TV and was pounding at the buttons, ignoring any channel with anything Christmas-related on it. He stopped, eventually, on a news channel with headlines that screamed things like, "Unexplained Tornado in Liverpool!" and "Several More Suicide Attempts Blamed On Mist."

They made me want to cry some more, but I didn't. Instead, I went to my mother's couch and sat down. After a moment, my father came and sat down beside me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his lap the way he had when I'd been a lot younger.

"I love you, Lily," he whispered.

"I love you too, Dad," was my reply.

We sat there for a long time, rocking back and forth, crying a little, and eventually singing some Christmas carols.

Christmas morning was one of the gloomiest of the year; instead of the bright, cheerful snow lit up by the bright, cheerful sun that I had expected, the skies were grey and the snow was dirty. There was no sun. Icy cold mist from dementors surrounded everything, making everyone feel as dismal as the weather.

Inside, however, my house was warm and as happy as it could be, all things considered. We were all awake by six-thirty and opening presents by six-forty-five. By seven, owls from my friends started arriving, thanking me for their presents.

 _How bloody typical,_  I thought.  _All awake already…_

I had made sure to send off my presents two days before; it was something I had learned from the Marauders, who loved to stare at their gifts while they were under the trees as they waited for Christmas morning.

When I had finished unwrapping presents, I had, sitting around me – besides the obvious wrapping paper and cards – the yearly classic Muggle novel from my father, a radio from Petunia (I couldn't use it at Hogwarts, so what was I supposed to do with it?), several boxes of Honeydukes' best from Emmeline and Dorcas, a bottomless bottle of firewhiskey from Marly, new earrings from Alice, boxer shorts printed with black paw prints from Sirius (I didn't understand that one, but it was the thought that counted, right?), a spell book I didn't have yet from Remus (he knew I spent all my free time learning new spells, as he had been the one to give me the idea in the first place two years ago when he'd suffered from insomnia), a huge sack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from Peter, a pretty charm bracelet from Calvin, and a lovely heart-shaped emerald pendant that hung from a silver chain from James. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I had my father do the clasp around my neck for me.

"This from your boyfriend?" he asked as he figured out how to close it.

"No, Dad," I replied. "Just a friend."

"Mm-hm," he answered knowingly. "That's what your mum used to say about me, you know. To keep me a secret from your granddad."

I shook my head but smiled all the same. "Whatever you say, Dad."

"That's right, Lily, whatever I say," he said, giving an exaggerated pompous smile.

I laughed. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, Lil."

My father's annual Christmas dinner that year consisted of a turkey the size of James's head, four or five side dishes – all of our favourites – and the biggest chocolate cake anyone had ever seen before. I probably gained a hundred pounds that night alone.

Vernon enjoyed the cake as well. In fact, he enjoyed it so immensely that he ate most of it. Petunia picked daintily at her slice. My father and I grinned at each other.

"Delicious, Dad," I said, licking my lips and taking a sip of the butterbeer I'd provided. "I love it."

"It's good, isn't it?" he agreed. "I'm such a wonderful baker."

He winked and I laughed, and for a moment, everything was alright.

I slept deeply that night for the first time in ages. Being so full of good food and, for the first time in a long time, happiness, I didn't have any unpleasant dreams.

The following day was long and uneventful. Petunia and Vernon went to stay at his family's house for a bit. I went for a walk through London with my father after work and showed him Diagon Alley – my mother had taken me that first time more than six years ago. He was shocked at the Gringotts goblins, but he seemed to enjoy himself nonetheless. At the Leaky Cauldron, he drank only more butterbeer and informed me that it was his new favourite thing in the world.

When I reached the house, I curled up on my dad's armchair as he went to read a book in his bedroom.

I must have sunken into sleep again halfway through another news program, because the next thing I knew it was morning again and there were several loud  _crack_ s from outside the house.

A moment later, there was a loud banging on the front door.

"I'll get it," I called warily, pulling my wand out of my pocket just as someone blasted the door in.

Five Death Eaters, masked, hooded, and cloaked, were standing in front of me, looking around with distaste.

"Very Muggle," said Lucius Malfoy's voice. "I think it needs some redecorating, Mudblood."

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly despite all my efforts to keep it steady.

Ignoring me, he pointed at the television I had been watching and said calmly, " _Reducto._ "

There was another blast; the TV was shattered all over the ground.

"What do you want?" I asked again, louder this time, aiming my wand at Malfoy.

"You," he replied calmly.

"Lily, what's going on?" my father's voice asked from behind me.

"Dad – get out of here!" I shouted, just as someone else – Bellatrix Black, it sounded like – snarled, " _Crucio!_ "

My father screamed in pain as the curse hit him. "STOP!" I shouted, but she didn't. "Leave him alone! What's he done to you?" Bellatrix ignored me. That was when the adrenaline kicked in.

" _STUPEFY!_ " I roared, pointing my wand at Bellatrix. The spell hit her so hard she was blown backwards.

Malfoy started where she'd left off until my father collapsed, panting, to the floor. I silently set his robes on fire. It took him a moment to realize it, but a moment was enough. I Stunned one of the other Death Eaters and managed to shout, " _Impedimenta!_ " at another before Malfoy put himself out and grabbed me around the neck.

"I'm going to kill you, Lily Evans," he hissed. "Unless you cooperate with my friends and me."

"I'm not cooperating with any of you!" I snarled, perhaps too bravely.

There was another loud  _crack_.

 _Not another one,_ I thought. But it wasn't – it was Sirius, probably here to bother me.

His back was to the scene in the living room, so he couldn't see us. Malfoy waved to the other Death Eater to keep him silent. I opened my mouth to scream. Malfoy covered it with his hand.

"Evans, are you here?" he called, and I could see his face in my head, brows furrowed, frowning slightly as he wondered where I was. "Something's happened. James needs you."

Malfoy raised his wand.

Sirius turned right on cue to see us.

Instantly, his wand was out, he was aiming jinxes and curses at Malfoy, and then Remus and Peter – Not Peter, he was hopeless at duelling, he was going to get seriously hurt if someone actually tried to fight him – were there too, and one of Sirius's curses singed Mafloy's ear, and the blonde said quietly, "Enough or I kill the Mudblood."

Sirius scowled, but stopped. Malfoy's arm was tight around my neck, and he had his wand pointed at my chest. I tried to use my wand, but he instantly realised what I was doing and Disarmed me. I wanted to Apparate, but I didn't know if I would take Malfoy along with me or not, and anyway, where would I Apparate to?

Everything was silent for a minute, and then Remus Disapparated, and it was only Peter, Sirius, the still-silent Death Eater, Malfoy, and me.

"Let her go, Malfoy," Sirius said, as if Malfoy would actually do it.

"And make the Dark Lord upset? I think not. No, I'd much rather kill two birds with one stone. Join us, Sirius. No one likes an outcast."

Another loud crack – no, two. Remus and James were standing there, both with wands pointed straight at Malfoy. James, I noticed, despite everything, looked strangely pale, and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he'd been crying.

"Let her go, Malfoy."

This time James spoke, and his voice was deadly calm.

Malfoy laughed coldly. "Why not join us, Potter? You could end up keeping much better company than blood traitors like Sirius Black and Mudbloods like Lily Evans."

"What? Death Eaters?" James laughed. He sounded dead.

Then there was another  _crack_ , this one more ominous than any of them, and suddenly I was scared, really and truly scared, for the first time.

A chilling laugh came from behind me, a sound so purely evil I was sure everything around it had died.

"Master!" Malfoy cried, spinning around and taking me with him. I felt dizzy.

Standing before us was a monster, complete with waxy white skin and blood-red eyes. I knew who it was. It was his fault my mother was dead. His fault I was trapped in Lucius Malfoy's grip. His fault the wizarding world was so screwed up – all his fault.

 _Not mine,_  I thought.  _His._

"Hello, Lily Evans," Lord Voldemort said, and his voice was cold and scary and everything bad all in one.

There was a moment of silence, and then James screamed, "YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!" and then he was in front of me, his wand pointed at Voldemort. "I'll kill you. You think you're invincible, don't you? You aren't. I'll kill you."

"You really think so, don't you?" said Voldemort, and there was amusement in that cold, cold voice. "Why don't we make a deal instead?"

"I'll never make a deal with you," James answered. "I think I'd much rather like to kill you."

And then Voldemort looked at Lucius and nodded. Lucius poked me with his wand and said something that I couldn't make out. Suddenly I was in pain – it was like knives were slicing into every inch of my body, like flames were licking over me, I wanted to die, to be painless, to be lifeless, and then –

"FINE!" James shouted, and the pain was gone, and I fell against Malfoy without realizing I was doing it. He shoved me rudely off him, somehow managing to keep a firm grip around my neck. "What do you want?"

"You, Potter," Voldemort replied. "You have shown great potential as a wizard. I would love to have you as a Death Eater – you would be my right hand man, my second in command. What do you say?"

"No!" someone shouted, and I realised that it wasn't James, it was me. "You can't, James!"

He looked at me, but his question was directed toward Voldemort. "And if I don't?"

"You die," Voldemort said simply. "Make your choice."

Instead of waiting for an answer, he turned to me. "Lily Evans, am I correct?" When I replied that I was, he nodded. "Yes, he told me you were pretty. I have a proposal for you."

I waited; he leered at me before continuing.

"Join my followers, and you will become my right hand  _woman_. I will make sure you receive the most respect of any witch ever deemed worthy of it. You could be very valuable to me, and I could be very valuable to you."

There was the noise of someone Disapparating behind me, but I pretended not to hear it.

"In what ways?" I asked as Voldemort motioned for Malfoy to let go of me.

"I'll keep you alive," he replied.

"How would I be valuable to you?"

"I have heard from some very reliable servants that your skill in Potions outshines any other's. There are some potions I would like made for me, and according to said informants, you are the smartest choice to make them."

His voice was cruel, careless, and cutting, yet at the same time strangely demanding. But who were his informants? Surely none of his Death Eaters could get into the school?

_You idiot, they're students, just like James said! Snape's in your Potions class, he could easily tell Voldemort anything!_

"No," I replied. "I won't help you – I would never help you."

"Very well, then."

Voldemort raised his wand. I thought he was going to point at me, but instead he aimed for my father.

"NO!" I screamed, as Voldemort said, too calmly, too cruelly, " _Avada Kedavra._ "

I tried to escape Malfoy's arm, which had returned without my feeling it, but this time it was too tight, choking me, hurting me. "NO!"

I felt the tears, hot tears, welling up in my eyes, but they didn't fall.

Voldemort ignored me and turned to James. "Now, Potter, tell me, will you join me, or meet a similar fate?"

James scowled. "Kill me, then."

"No! James! Not you, too!" I didn't realise I was speaking out loud until Malfoy hissed in my ear, "Shut up, Mudblood."

Voldemort glanced at the still-silent Death Eater, who hissed, " _Crucio!_ "

James bit his lip so tightly I thought it might have started to bleed, but he didn't scream. He was writing about on the ground, but he didn't scream. Voldemort looked coolly annoyed.

"If that's how you want to play, then, Potter…"

He raised his wand –  _No, no, no, no, no!_ , my mind screamed – but then James Disapparated and reappeared beside me, Stunning Malfoy, gripping my forearm, dragging me away, all in the space of a few seconds – he was about to Disapparate but then Dumbledore was there –

"We're saved," James whispered to me, and then leaned heavily on me. I realised the not screaming part must have taken a lot of energy.

Suddenly Remus was behind me, his arm around me, supporting me before I collapsed. "Are you alright?" he whispered as there was another loud  _crack_. A part of me registered that Voldemort was gone, but it didn't matter. I moved to my father –

"Dad," I whispered, on my knees beside his body. "Dad, wake up!"

"Lily, come on, we have to leave, what if he comes back?"

Someone was talking to me, but it didn't matter.

"Dad, come on, wake up, it's morning, it's time to have some pancakes – you love pancakes…"

He was not dead. He was not dead. Not dead. Not dead.

I repeated the words in my mind – as if they would bring him back, as if they would somehow make the lie true – as my vision blurred.

"Lily, let's go."

"Dad," I murmured, clutching his cold, cold hand. "Dad, c'mon – you're not dead – you're not dead! Not you too, Dad, not you too!"

"Come on, Lily."

Someone shoved my wand back into my hand. Arms were around me, pulling me up and then gripping me to someone. And then I was numb, completely numb, and I couldn't feel anything, no emotions at all…

"It's gonna be okay, Lily. It's gonna be okay."

There was the blackness and feeling of being pressed very hard from every direction that came with Apparating, and then I was very, very cold, then very, very warm, but my eyes were still shut and I didn't know what was happening.

"C'mon, Lily. We're in the Three Broomsticks. We're going to Hogwarts. We're gonna be okay."

James's voice was soothing, and as I sank into him, he continued to pull me, this time toward the fire. "Dumbledore set up a Floo, Lily. I'll get you through, okay? I'll take care of everything."

My father was dead.

I didn't know why I was realising it as I stepped through a fire, but I knew that it was true. It hurt. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt me before, but it had happened, and there was nothing I could do, and once more it was all my fault.

"Come on, Lily, come on."

James lifted me, suddenly, and I clutched him around the neck, not caring anymore, not caring that I had Calvin. I wanted James, and even my half-delirious mind knew it. "Don't let me fall, James."

"I won't, Lily, I'll never let you fall. You'll be alright, Lily, I promise."

He put me down somewhere – a bed, it felt like, and sat down gingerly beside me.

"Lily?"

Suddenly everything came back, and I opened my eyes without realizing I'd closed them, and then the tears came, hot and unwanted but filled with relief.

James wrapped his arms around me, and I let myself sink against him.

"He's dead, James, they're both dead, what am I going to do?"

"I don't know, Lily. Mine – mine are dead too."

"You don't understand, though," I said softly. "It's my fault my dad is dead, too."

"Lily…"

"If I had said yes to Voldemort, he'd be alive and alright, not dead. It's my fault this time, too, James."

"It's Voldemort's fault. It's all Voldemort's fault."

"Is it okay to hate someone?" I asked a little bit later.

James said, "Yes, as long as you have a legitimate reason to."

I snuggled closer to him. "I hate Voldemort."

"Me, too."

I didn't know how long we sat there, but somehow I ended up in his lap, my head buried against his chest, as we sat on his bed and cried for our parents and for ourselves and hated Voldemort for everything he had done.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I heard him whisper, "I love you, Lily Evans," in a voice filled with pain and sadness and love and grief.

_I love you too, James Potter._

* * *

**A/N:**  I just realized that James gets put through the ringer for pretty much this entire fanfiction. Poor guy. _  
_

That said, please excuse the general melodrama of this chapter. I was only in middle school when I wrote it, and I promise it only improves from here.


	15. Fourteen

I woke up in the morning feeling oddly cramped but at the same time strangely comfortable. It took a while for me to realise what was going on; after several minutes, my mind registered the fact that the arms around me belonged to James Potter.

It took me longer to remember the events of the previous day, but when they came back to me, it was in a flood of memories that I didn't want, my father being tortured, Malfoy nearly choking me to death, Voldemort nearly killing James, Voldemort asking me to join him, Voldemort killing my father, Voldemort, Voldemort,  _Voldemort_.

A part of me told me to leave James lying on his bed and run, run, run as fast as I could away from him – run to Calvin, run to Sirius, run to Alice, to Marly, to  _anyone_  but him.

For once, I ignored that part. For once I decided to do what I really wanted to do.

I cried.

The tears were hot and fast and salty in my mouth. They slid down my face, a cliche picture of a broken-hearted teenager, only I wasn't a broken-hearted teenager, not exactly, and my story wasn't cliche.

If only I'd said yes to Voldemort. If only I'd spent the holiday at Hogwarts, where Voldemort couldn't reach me, so he wouldn't have any reason to kill my father. If only I'd thrown myself in front of the curse in time. If only, if only…

They haunted me, the 'if onlys', as they came, without my wanting or willing them to, but still terribly, terribly strong, as they washed over me, making me hate myself, making me hate Voldemort –

There was a strangled sob. It took me a while to realise it had come from me. Another sob, and James stirred from beneath me. I rolled off of him as gently as I could.

A moment later, his beautiful eyes flickered open. There was nothing in them at first; they were hollow, dead, emotionless, and then slowly they filled with pain, and then, as he looked at me, something unrecognisable but still so, so strong…

 _Love,_  the vaguely romantic part of me, the part I'd shoved into a corner after I'd broken up with my first boyfriend, informed me.

"Lily," he mumbled, balling his hand into a fist and bringing it up to his eyes. "Are you really here?"

I nodded, and then said, "Well – yeah."

There was a short silence during which James's facial expression gradually grew more bitter and at the same time more wistful. "This is the part where you say, 'I'm sorry, James, I can't,' and leave, isn't it?"

I hesitated. "Well – I have a boyfriend."

"So get rid of him! You don't love him, do you? Does he love you?"

"He says he does."

"Do you love him?"

I didn't answer. I knew I didn't love Calvin. I barely even liked Calvin. He was sweet, yes, but he also disliked the Marauders, who I liked, and he was rude when he was drunk.

"Lily, if you love him, I'll never look at you again. I'll never – I'll stop. I'll give up. For real this time."

I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm sorry, James. I just – I don't know."

"Ah."

He didn't ask me if I loved him, which was a relief, because I wasn't sure if I did or not, despite what my heart was insisting. He didn't tell me he loved me, which was also a relief, because at the moment I couldn't take it, couldn't take love, couldn't take desire, temptation, hurt.

"I change my mind," James said, standing up abruptly. "I can't do this. I – I can't. I'm going to – I don't know. You can stay here if you want," he added, his voice kind and understanding.

"No, I'll go to my own room. I need a shower and a change of clothes."

James nodded without looking at me and left the room. I waited a moment, and then I left too.

A shower and a change of clothes later, I was still feeling depressed, but now I felt angry, too. Not at myself, not this time around. Now I was angry at Voldemort. He had destroyed my family, James's family, and Marly's family, and he was working on destroying many others.

I was an orphan, I realised with a jolt as I stretched out on the couch of the Heads' Common Room. I had neither parent and I barely had a sister. Where would I be, ten years from now? Would I be dead, too? Would Voldemort kill me the way he'd killed my father, or would it be indirect, the way my mother had died? Maybe I wouldn't die. Maybe I'd live and have a dozen adorable children, some with red hair and others with green eyes, some with both.

I turned on my stomach and closed my eyes, burying my face in the pillow. It was relaxing, to have my brain empty itself of everything but the feeling of the velvet throw pillow against my face. I wished I could stay like that forever, but soon my breathing grew short, and I had to lift my head up a little.

I was shocked to see the dark spots on the pillow, proof that I had been crying, but at the same time, I had expected it.

Anger came back, flooding through me, as I punched the pillow and wondered,  _Why?_

Why had Voldemort come after me? Why had he killed my father? Why had he killed James's parents? Why did he hate Muggles and Muggle-borns? What was wrong with us? Were we some kind of – of monsters? What had Muggles ever done to him?

Another tear hit the pillow, another dark spot on the soft red.

"I hate that – that – "

I couldn't think of a word to describe Voldemort. There was simply no word as full of hatred as I was becoming, especially toward him. Maybe it was wrong, to hate somebody. But he had killed my father, he was the reason my mother was dead. I hated him. I  _hated_ him.

Suddenly I couldn't take it – I couldn't take this, this quiet, I couldn't take being alone, I had to see someone, anyone –

I was on my feet and walking, no,  _sprinting_ , toward the door leading to the Gryffindor common room. I burst into it and stopped, also very suddenly.

"Hey," I said softly to the room, a room full of people I knew, people that wouldn't understand –

"I heard what happened," Marly said, without a greeting. "Let's go for a walk."

I nodded because I realized then, I had been wrong, she would understand. Her parents had been murdered, too.

Marly stood up and grasped me by the hand – it wasn't romantically, obviously, but it was a friendly gesture all the same. She led me out of the common room, down some stairs, through some hallways, and then out a door, and then we were outside.

She didn't ask me if I was alright; that would've been stupid, because, in all honesty, how _could_  I be alright? She didn't tell me she knew how I felt, even though maybe she did. Instead, she said softly, "I loved your parents."

"I did, too," I replied. We walked through the pumpkin patch. "I wish they hadn't died."

I felt stupid, saying it, because that much was obvious, but it felt good to say it at the same time, because it was everything that I was feeling summed up into one sentence.

"I wish my parents hadn't died, either."

"It's all Voldemort's fault," I said softly as we reached Hagrid's cabin. "He's the one who's screwed up all these families, he's the one who's killing people for no reason…"

"D'you want to talk?" Marly asked. "You know – about what happened?"

I shook my head. I just wanted to forget. I never wanted to think about Voldemort again. Then I said, "Some Death Eaters Apparated into my front lawn and knocked down my door. I jinxed some of them and then Sirius and Remus came, and then Malfoy threatened to kill me, and then Voldemort was there, and then James was there, and Voldemort wanted James, but he said no, and then Voldemort wanted me, but I said no, and then he killed my dad."

I didn't know if she'd understood my rambling – I'd barely understood it myself. It was just one long run-on sentence of hatred and death and evil and –

"Why was Sirius there?" Marly asked, her voice one of false curiosity.

"I think he wanted to tell me about James's parents," I said. I hesitated, then added, "He didn't cheat on you, you know."

Marly looked at me and said nothing for a moment. Then, "I know. But I can't – It's hard to – you know?"

"It's hard to admit you're wrong," I said softly. "I know. But he loves you, Marly. He'd do anything for you."

"I don't think he does," she said. "Not anymore."

I shook my head, but she didn't seem to see. She was staring into the Forbidden Forest thoughtfully. "I'm glad I'm part of this thing, aren't you?"

When I didn't respond, she added, "You know – this Order thing. It makes me feel like I'm doing something to stop him."

"Yeah," I said. I hadn't thought about that, but it was true. I was a part of the fight against him, not a part of the little ants he was crushing that weren't defending themselves. He wanted me? Well, he wouldn't get me without a fight. "Yeah, you're right."

The Order. I was a part of the Order. I was a part of the resistance. Like, I thought, the ones from the Muggle history books I'd once enjoyed. We were like the American rebels who'd broken apart from Britain. We were like the civil rights movement in America or like Ghandi in India. Like the French Resistance or the Warsaw Uprising, only hopefully we'd be different from the latter in that we wouldn't end up a "tragic" struggle, as my favourite history book had put it.

I thought about James, and his struggles to get me to fight Voldemort. I'd thought I would only attract his attention, but I had attracted it anyway. My Gryffindor courage had left me, but it was back now. I was going to fight him. I was going to fight, not only for the past, for revenge, but for the future, for the happiness I so wanted to have. I had thought that not fighting would save my family and those I cared about. I had been wrong. It had not saved my father. It had not saved my mother. It would not have saved me, if Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James hadn't been there.

We were going to win, I decided. We would win and Voldemort would lose.

I would stop him if it was the last thing I did.

Marly and I walked around the school in silence for a while. Then she asked, "So – what's going on with you and James?"

"Nothing," I said dully. "I'm still dating Calvin, and I'm not going to cheat on him."

"So break up with him!" Marly cried. "James  _loves you,_  Lily, and Calvin – "

"Supposedly he loves me too," I interrupted. "I don't know if I can believe either one of them. I do, however, know that Calvin is better for me – less volatile. Less likely to get himself killed."

"James isn't going to get himself killed!"

"You didn't see him yesterday, Marly," I insisted. Had it even been yesterday? Maybe it had been in the morning…it was near twilight now. Surely we hadn't been asleep for more than twenty-four hours?

"This morning," she confirmed. "Keep going."

"He practically threw himself in front of Voldemort and threatened to kill him – I could see Voldemort practically happy to have a reason to do James in, but first he asked him to join the Death Eaters. James said no, of course, and Voldemort put the Cruciatus Curse on him, and James, being the foolhardy idiot he is, refused to scream. He almost got killed, Marly – I couldn't stand it if he got killed because of me!"

Marly sighed. "I suppose, if I'm not taking chances with my own love life, I can hardly ask you to, can I?"

I shook my head. "Your situation's different. Go snog Sirius senseless right now, Marly!"

"I can't," she said softly. "What if he doesn't love me anymore? And what if – what if we're wrong? What if he  _did_  cheat on me?"

We concluded our conversation on that note; Marly continued to the Quidditch pitch, and I turned back and found myself wandering through the hallways. It was hard to believe that just this morning my father had died. It seemed like an age ago, and yet I could remember it vividly, as though it were happening again before my eyes.

Upon entering the school, I was met with a gust of warm air that practically suffocated me. Instantly I itched for the cold of the outside again. I restrained myself, however, and walked slowly up to the Astronomy Tower.

It was like ice in there. Now I wanted heat again.

There had been a time, in the months prior to my mother's death, that I had gone through a philosophical stage. Once she'd died, however, everything had seemed horribly, horribly real. Now my mind was slowly but surely drifting back to that odd way of thinking as I wondered,  _How come we're never happy?_

It was, I decided, a legitimate question. How come humans, with all their ways to make life easier, were never content? It was as if perfect happiness did not exist. Even now, as the warmth suffocated me and the cold froze me, I was proving it to myself. Just when I wanted something the most, I received it, only to realise that I had never really wanted it in the first place. Just when I had started to regain a little bit of happiness on Christmas and the days following it, my father had been murdered in front of my eyes. Just when my school life had started to return as close to normal as was possible – given the circumstances – my life had been flipped completely upside down, not only by Voldemort, but also by Calvin and James.

Was anyone ever really happy? Humans always wanted more – they received money, and they asked for more. They lived a hundred years and still didn't want to die. They were given everything they needed, everything they  _wanted_  – and still they desired more.

Happiness, I decided, was purely nonexistent, unless you stopped yourself wanting, something that was probably impossible to do.

I sighed and descended the long spiralling staircase, then brought myself to Gryffindor Tower. At the moment, I wanted to be with some friends. I was terribly tired, suddenly, despite the fact that I'd only just woken up, but I didn't want to sleep. I  _refused_  to sleep. I knew that if I did, the results could be disastrous – insomnia at best, nightmares at worst.

My feet brought me, without my really registering it, to the kitchens first. I was hungry, there was no denying it, and I wasn't going to stop myself eating simply because I was upset.

When the food entered my mouth, however, it tasted like cardboard. Nothing could compare to something my father would make.

***

My father's funeral was to be held on New Year's Eve. James's parents' funeral was the day before.

The two days leading up to the funerals were tense. Most of the time, all of us – James, Alice, Frank, Dorcas, Marly, Emmeline, Alice, Sirius, and I (the other two Marauders were both still home for Christmas, and Frank was still supposed to be guarding Gryffindor's common room, but we kept the door between the rooms open so he could stay with us) just sat stiffly in one of the two common rooms, looking at each other and at our watches. Every now and then, Sirius or Frank or Emmeline would stand up and stretch, or go down to the kitchens and bring some drinks back. Once, Sirius asked me if I wanted something stronger. I told him if he brought any alcohol into the common room, I'd report him.

Eventually, Alice, Frank, and Marly went down to the kitchens – or maybe the Great Hall, I didn't really know, nor did I really care – and brought back some actual food instead of just pumpkin juice and butterbeer.

"Have some chicken, Lily," Alice said kindly from beside me.

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry." I grabbed another goblet of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"Are you quite sure you don't want any Firewhisky, Evans?" Sirius asked. "It wouldn't be too hard to get – we're of age now, after all."

I almost told him that, yes, I did want some of his bloody liquor, but then I shook my head and reminded him that I was Head Girl and therefore obligated to report any alcohol in the school. He shrugged and shoved some of his salad into his mouth.

Marly was sitting two seats away from him, also eating rapidly. It was one of the things they had in common – food. In the worst of times, Marly would just stuff herself with food, and Sirius was exactly the same. I didn't know how either of them managed to stay so thin, but I guessed that Quidditch had to do with it.

She hadn't said a word to him or Emmeline, and while the former seemed not to notice, the latter was obviously both hurt and annoyed. My eyes drifted back and forth between the three as Emmeline attempted to make conversation and was shrugged off by Marly. Sirius ignored both of them and drowned his obvious misery in food.

Dorcas, meanwhile, was clutching a book in her hands, her eyes boring into it, but she hadn't turned a page in nearly an hour. She was trembling a little, as though she was feeling the same pain as James and me.

Finally, she said, "We should have a party."

I laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, let's celebrate the deaths of our families. Good bit of fun, that'll be."

"No, I mean – a New Year's party. With drinks and – and fireworks – and everything else – it'll be good, take our minds off of … you know."

Nothing could take my mind off of my blatant desolation, but I decided, just this once, to humour her.

"Fine, then, have one."

Sirius looked up, shocked, gravy on his chin. "Really?"

I nodded. "But I'm not planning it, and there will be no liquor – or at least, none that I know about."

Sirius grinned at me and leapt to his feet. "Let's make plans now, then!"

James, sprawled on the floor and staring at the ceiling, his face emotionless, said, "New Year's Eve. Get drinks from Hogsmeade. Get fireworks from Hogsmeade. Get drunk. Not difficult to plan, especially considering we'll all be too pissed to actually do whatever we've decided to by the time we've got the drinks in."

His voice was hollow and toneless, but somehow sad at the same time.

"Fine, then, let's go to the Gryffindor common room and leave these two party-poopers here," Marly said, too cheerfully. She stood up and gave everyone a pointed look; immediately they stood up and left the room.

All too soon, it became clear to me what had just happened.

"Looks like they left us alone again," I said dryly.

"Apparently."

"Want a game of chess?"

"No."

"How about some butterbeer?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"If you want to talk to me, Lily, then  _talk_  to me, don't just make small talk," James said, his voice still mostly emotionless, but I could detect a hint of something like hope in it.

"What do you want me to say, then?" I asked him, only half expecting an answer.

"How about you tell me where we stand?"

"What?"

"We're not dating, we're not friends, we're not enemies, we know each other too well to be acquaintances – so where do we stand?"

"I – I don't know."

"Are you going to break up with Witless Whitby?"

I decided not to tell him how similar his comment was to Snape's.

"I don't know."

"Why?" he cried, suddenly on his feet. "Why don't you know? Why don't you make up your mind so we can decide whether we're friends or not?"

"What does my relationship with Calvin have to do with our friendship?" I asked indignantly. "I can be friends with you without breaking up with him!"

"Do you love him, Lily?" he asked. "Just tell me, and if you do, I swear I'll leave you alone. I'll give up – I promise, I'll just – I'll stop."

"I – I don't know."

"What do you know?" he asked bitterly.

"I know that – I know that I don't quite treat you how you deserve to be treated."

"What?" He looked up, his face betraying obvious surprise.

"Look, I'd like to pretend I never acted the way I did toward you," I said. "I wish I'd never insulted you. Sometimes I wish I could take it all back, but I know I can't. I've always sort of liked you – not really, but it was always there. You just – you make me so mad sometimes! I don't know what it is about you that just infuriates me half the time and makes me love you the other half. The truth is, though, I can't take any of it back, even though I only meant about half of it.

"All these years, they all just show that we both make mistakes. I can admit that – I know who I am because of those mistakes. I've almost lost myself in the midst of all this fighting – fighting with you, with Alice, with Dorcas, with the Slytherins, the Death Eaters, Voldemort – everyone – you knew it, my friends knew it, maybe even I knew it. But in almost losing myself, and probably losing any chance that you and I ever had, I regained myself, and here I am, as whole as I'll ever be, despite everything.

"And then there's you, James, the most confusing aspect of my life – I'm not quite sure whether I love you or hate you, but the thing about you is, you're always there. You're there when I need you, even when I don't know it. Even when you probably don't know it. I don't exactly understand you. I don't understand how you can insist you love me and that we should be together when I'm such a bitch to you all the time. I put you through pain; don't look at me like that, you know I did. I know I shouldn't be forgiven, but you seem to want to anyway.

"James, I'm not scared of fighting Voldemort anymore. I know I have to fight him, I know I can't avoid it. But I'm still scared of getting hurt. I don't want to get hurt, I can't get hurt, not again, or I might just – I might just lose it completely, you know?"

He started to say something, but I cut him off. Such a speech was uncharacteristic for me, but I had to say it to someone or I would explode. I knew, even as I spoke the words, that they were all true.

"You're too rash, James. You were going to die that day. If you hadn't been fast, if your reflexes were just a little bit slower, you'd be dead. I don't know how much more death I can take. If I get attached for you, I'm afraid you'll die, and I'll hurt. I don't want to hurt anymore, James, I don't want the pain anymore. I can't take the pain anymore. I'm scared to be with you, because I'm scared that I'll be happy, and once you find happiness, there's always someone who's going to take it away, and I can't – I can't do that again. I just – I just want – I don't know. I don't know what I want, I don't know if I love you, I don't know anything."

But that was wrong – I did love him. I knew it, and maybe he knew it, too.

"Lily, people get hurt!" he exclaimed. "Sometimes it's worth the pain – haven't you ever heard the expression, 'It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?' We all die, Lily! We're not going to live forever, so why not create something that will? I've been with lots of girls, Lily, you've seen me, and I know that they don't matter to me, because I don't love them. After a while, you realise who really matters and who never did and never will, and Lily,  _you matter!_  I've told you I love you, and it's true! I've tried to stop myself, because I know that someone as wonderful as you could never love me back, but when you love someone you really can't do anything about it – you don't control your heart, Lily, your heart controls you.

"Sometimes I wish love didn't exist. I wish people wouldn't go crazy over it, cry over it, brag about, enjoy it, die over it, but it's impossible, because without love we can't go on, can we? It doesn't work that way, does it? We can't just wish something away, or else most of the people on this planet would probably be gone right now because of stupid, meaningless fighting. But it exists. It exists, and even though you can't see it, it's one of the realest things in the world. No one understands it, but it's there, you can feel it, I can feel it, don't try to tell me you can't.

"You tell me that you can't bear anymore pain – well, neither can I! But sometimes the pain is worth it. And anyway," he added, smiling slightly, cockily, beautifully, "if you already love me, won't it hurt less if you admit before I'm killed?"

I shook my head, shook it hard and angrily and sadly – a million emotions, all condensed into one shake of my head. "Sorry, James."

He was right, he was right, he was right, I knew it, he knew I knew it, but I couldn't – I was  _not_  going to cheat on Calvin, not even with James Potter.

"See you later," he said, walking away and leaving me alone.

What the hell was I  _doing_? Letting the one man who'd ever really mattered walk away like that?

I started to tell him to wait, but then I realised it wouldn't do me any good because I had nothing to say to him, not really, and let myself fall back on the couch, eyes closing instantly, as the dreams – the nightmares – came to me, dark and frightening and evil.

***

James returned from the funeral and made no attempt at talking. He sat on the couch and buried his head in his hands. I felt like I should do something, but when I went to sit next to him, he stood up and left me alone again. A bit later, I heard him talking to Sirius about the party and all the Firewhisky they were planning on buying. I decided not to stop them.

My father's funeral took place in the afternoon, in a cold garden near a cold cemetery a mile or so away from our home.

The funeral was attended by many people; people who had worked with him, people who had known him during school, people he had been friends with, ex-girlfriends, family, and Petunia. Several of us spoke about him; I did, too, but even as I did I was almost crying. My voice rang out across the nearly silent garden, high-pitched and scared as I held back tears. Petunia was holding Vernon as if for dear life, sobbing hysterically. The sight of her – my older sister, reduced to clutching at the folds of fat of her fiance, tears streaming down her face even as Vernon wiped them away with a pudgy thumb, finally broke the dam, and the tears fell.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I – I can't do this."

I left, took off running, as far as my feet would bring me in my stuffy black dress and uncomfortable black pumps. Eventually, I slowed to a walk, until I realised I was in the playground my sister and I had spent plenty of time in when we'd been younger. I sat down on a bench and let the tears fall, knowing that my makeup was probably beyond ruined by now, but not quite caring.

The playground was barren, as playgrounds usually were in the middle of the winter. I realised with a jolt that this was the same playground I'd walked to the day of my mother's death. More tears came, and they burned my cheeks but brought me no relief.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat. I didn't know how long I sat there, but eventually I heard, "I thought I might find you here."

I opened my eyes; Petunia was standing over me, her face carefully rearranged into an emotionless mask. There were still tears on her face, and her mascara was smudged, but her eyes were cold and blank.

"Good guess," I said. "Sorry I left."

"I don't care," she replied. "I wanted to ask you a favour."

"What?"

I was shocked; since when did Petunia need anything from me?

"Can you bring him back?"

Ah. I should've known. This was precisely why wizards were kept a secret from Muggles; Muggles always wanted to bring back the dead, change the weather, get rid of those they didn't like…

"No, Petunia. It's impossible," I said quietly. "No spell brings back the dead."

"But you have to! It's your fault he's dead, why can't you bring him back?"

I knew why it was my fault he was dead, but why did  _she_  think so?

"What?"

"You could've saved him! You could've stopped that Voldemort person from killing him! Don't think I don't know what happened – that old man told me everything! He said Voldemort wanted something from you, and when you wouldn't give it to him, he killed Dad! So bring him back, Lily,  _bring him back!_ "

She was crying now, more tears leaking out of her eyes. "Lily, what good is magic if you can't stop people from dying? What good is magic if you can't bring them back?"

"I don't know, Petunia! All I know is that I can't bring Dad back!"

"Fine, then," she said tartly. "Goodbye, Lily. Don't bother coming to the wedding – you won't be getting an invitation. I'm selling the house, so never come looking for it."

"Don't I get any say in this?" I asked coldly.

"No, because as far as I'm concerned, you're no longer an Evans, and you're no longer my sister."

"But – "

"I knew when you got that letter it would lead to no good, and I was right, wasn't I?" she snapped. "I hate you, Lily. I hope your magic kills you!"

She turned away from me and left, half-walking, half-running away, her steps irregular, to match the suddenly too fast pounding of my heart. I was trying to calm down, but I couldn't. I didn't much like Petunia, but there was something in me that felt … lost. First my mum, then my father, and finally my sister … they were all gone to me now. For the first time in my life, I was really and truly alone.

I didn't know how I got back to Hogwarts. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the fact that I had Apparated into the Three Broomsticks and Floo'd myself into the Gryffindor common room. No one around me seemed to notice that anything was wrong. A couple of fifth years waved cheerfully to me as I passed and wished me a happy New Year, but I ignored them.

My feet carried me into the Head's common room, where it was dark, lit only by the hot fire. James was standing next to Sirius, and they were setting off fireworks. The noise hurt my head, but I didn't care. I sat down on a couch. Alice immediately sat down beside me.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," a voice that was mine even though it wasn't said quietly.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

She looked concerned. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head violently as Sirius and James cheered. It looked like they were drunk already.

"Let me get my Wizarding Wireless," James said quickly, and ran to his room, bringing the wireless back and setting it on the table. "Lily, dearest, what station do you like best?"

"Whatever, it doesn't really matter."

He shrugged and tuned the radio. It started blasting loud Spanish music. He seemed to enjoy it, as he grabbed my hand and asked me to dance.

"I'm not quite drunk just yet, Potter," I snapped, and found myself suddenly wanting nothing more than to drown my day in shots of firewhisky and glass after glass of elf made wine.

He made a puppy dog face and grabbed a shot, pouring it down his throat, grinning and winking at me. "Want one?"

"I do!" Sirius said giddily, grabbing James's, which instantly refilled itself, and downing it immediately. "Ah, the burn."

"You should have a couple," James said, plopping down on the couch beside me and putting his head on my shoulder. "Takes away the pain."

His voice was, oddly enough, perfectly coherent, even though before it had been slightly slurred.

Finally, I gave in and grabbed a shot. Marly, stretched out over an armchair, seemed to take this as her cue. She Summoned a shot and downed it, wincing and then grinning at me.

I poured the liquid down my throat; it was burning hot and tasted, strangely enough, like white cake that was spiked with chilli powder. I felt it warm me up without even realising I was cold.

"Ah, delshus, ain't it … Evers?" Sirius slurred.

"Wonderful," I said dryly, as the pain of my sister's hatred was numbed a little. Without noticing I was doing it, I drank the shot again, and then again. Dorcas was the first to stand and leave, wiping tears from her pale eyes. I remembered, vaguely through all the whisky, that her brother had been an alcoholic. I didn't know how many shots I drank before Sirius's voice started to sound coherent to me again.

"Let's dance, Evvy," he said, grabbing me around the waist and twirling me around the room in an awkward sort of waltz.

"No! We're dancing the goody-goody way!" I whined. "I don't wanna dance like goody-goodies!"

"How d'ya wanna dance?" James asked, pulling me away from his friend. "Not like this, is it?"

He was literally all over me, and I was giggling loudly. "This is fun!"

"Ah, always a wild side to every Head Grinch," he said, pressing his lips against my neck and sucking.

"Ah – Potter, don't do that," I ordered. "No touching of me a – what's the word? Alien? No touching of me alien."

It sounded right, so, satisfied, I turned around to face him and punched him lightly in the chest.

"You're right Prongsie-wongsie!" Sirius exclaimed. "Remember that Millie Turpiestie, the Head Grinch at some point? She was  _wild!_ "

"She was also ugly as that guy we make fun of," James said, frowning. "What's his name again? Sni – Snickers? Snipples?"

"Simpleton," I supplied. "It's Simpleton."

James nodded. "Ah. Simpleton. And we call him – Slimmius?"

I nodded. "Yum. Slimmius."

James hugged me and said, "My Evvy, she's so smart!"

"Let's play Truth or Dare, guys!" Sirius exclaimed. By then, we were at the point where we could barely make sense of anything anymore.

"Okay!" I agreed, grinning widely and making my way toward the couch, aiming carefully for the seat near Sirius, but wobbling slightly and falling into his lap with a high-pitched giggle. "Sorry!"

"What the hell is Truth or Dare?" Marlene asked, still lying comfortably in her armchair. I saw her attempt to get up, fail, sigh, and drink more Firewhisky.

"I ask someone truth or dare, and if you say truth, I ask you a question and you tell the truth no matter what. If you say dare, I dare you to do something, and you have to do it."

"Let's play with a twist," James suggested. "Every time you get dared to do something, you take another shot of the good stuff."

"We're going to be so pissed by the end of this," Alice giggled.

"We already are pissed," James acknowledged. "Why do you think Lilvans hasn't moved from Sirius's lap?"

"'S comfy," I said, unable to make myself get the whole word out. I giggled again. Sirius leaned down and bit my nose, hard. "What was that for?" I asked indignantly.

"No bogies came out, I guess that means you aren't full of shit."

I giggled again. "Sirius, you're drunk."

"If you understand me, you must be drunk too."

"Evans, truth or dare?" James asked me.

"Er, truth I suppose."

He made a face. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, silly!" I cried, practically leaping from Sirius's lap into his. "You bloody wanker, of course I love you!"

"I'm not a wanker!" he whined. "You're a wanker!"

"Shut up, mate, you know you're a wanker, I've seen you in action!" Sirius cried, standing up and throwing a punch at James, but missing badly and falling flat on his back.

"Emmeline, truth or dare?" I asked, looking at her. She was leaning against the couch next to Alice, a fourth goblet of wine in her hand.

"Er, dare, then."

"I dare you to kiss Potter's toenails!" I cried.

She grinned and shrugged. "Where's m'whisky?"

Someone handed her a shot, and she downed it before crouching on the floor in front of James and me and pulling off first his shoe, then his sock. She quickly kissed the big nail on his left foot and stood up, shooting more firewhisky as she went back to her seat.

"That was fun, you should try it," James said, winking at me.

"There are other parts of you I'd like to kiss, James," I said, trying to sound seductive but ruining the effect by giggling loudly. He grinned and leaned over, but instead of kissing me, he grabbed my cheek and pinched it.

"There are other parts of you I'd like to pinch, Lillers."

"McKinnon, truth or d – d – dog?" Emmeline asked Marly.

"It's dare, you idiot! But I pick dog." Marly grinned.

"Dog your hair purple!"

Marly took some whisky and tapped her wand against her head. A moment later, her once caramel coloured locks were a vivid violet. She Conjured a mirror and looked at herself. "I look h – h – h – hill? Oh, I don't know! All I know is, I'm gonna keep my hair like this."

We all stared at her as she yawned and took some chocolate frogs from the table, eating only the legs.

"S'rus, truth or dare?"

"Dare," he replied, and I started to feel like an idiot for not choosing dare.

"Dare you to kiss me," she said, nodding and grinning as if it was the best idea in the world.

More firewhisky, then his lips were on her eye. "Er, wait, I missed," he stammered, and then made to kiss her again, but reached her ear this time. "I know I can do this!" he cried, and kissed her hard, using his tongue, on the shoulder. She giggled loudly.

"Alice, truth or dare?" he asked, seating himself on Marly's outstretched legs. She squealed.

"Dare," Alice said. He dared her to shag him on the floor. She giggled and reached for him before Frank intervened.

"I don't think so, Black," he said sharply, seating Alice back down on the couch. "Pick someone else to shag you."

"Fine. Potter, you."

James stood up, letting me tumble off him, and took another shot of firewhisky.

"Okay!" he said cheerfully, whipping out his wand and pointing it at Sirius. Instantly he was covered in shaggy fur. "Shagged you! Evans, truth or dare?"

"Dare," I replied.

"Dare you to love me."

More firewhisky, and then I said, "Course I love you, James, how is that a dare?"

He appeared to be thinking hard, and then said, "Fine, I dare you to kiss me."

I shrugged and leaned up, pressing my lips to what I thought were his, but to an area was more commonly known as "knee."

"Ah…sorry," I said, bringing myself further up and reaching for his head. When I had it in my grasp, I pulled it toward me, succeeding in getting him on top of me as well. I brought my mouth to his and kissed him. It wasn't the sweet kiss I usually gave Calvin – it was, in fact, quite the opposite, full of passion and desire and alcohol. "Frankie-wankie, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Are you and Alice ever going to get married?"

"Eh, we're thinking April. Black, truth or dare?" he asked, a manic glint in his eye.

"Both. Can you pick both? Does both even exist? What is a both? Is it like a bath? Or a bat? Or a cat? Or a wat?" He giggled. "What's a wat? What's a cat? What's a Black?"

"Black's a colour," I supplied. "A black cat wats through the bat in the both bath!"

It made perfect sense to me, even if Frank, the only person who wasn't drunk enough to pass out, looked at me a little oddly.

"I think you've all had quite enough to drink," he said sternly.

"No, we haven't!" I giggled. Someone – Sirius? – shoved some wine into my hand. It was delicious and soothing and strangely cold after the firewhisky. "Ah, that's good."

"Innit?" Sirius said, his voice slurring again. "Mind, we're going to have the worst hangovers tomorrow…ah, 's nearly midnight, c'mon Prongsie-poo, we needa set off those fireworks!"

"Nah, you do it, I like it where I am," James said, laying his head on my chest.

"Ah, don't do that, Pothead," I murmured, grabbing hold of his hair and lifting his head off of there. "Not fun ripping out all this lovely black stuff, is it?"

Sirius set off the fireworks – one for each second. We counted down loudly, a shot of whisky with almost every second: "TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!"

James's lips crashed against mine at "ZERO!" and finally, the alcohol was just too much, and everything went black.


	16. Fifteen: Regulus Black's Perspective

"But I don't want to be the distraction again!" I whined. "I've already done it twice, and it's  _not_  fun being beaten up by guys two years older than me! Besides, I think Slughorn's starting to get suspicious!"

"We need to have a meeting with the Dark Lord, Black," Snape sneered. "You're going to have to do it."

"Why can't you do it?" I snarled at him. "They'll think it was the Marauders, so none of us will even get in trouble!"

We were standing in the Slytherin common room arguing about my being a distraction for the Death Eaters currently attending Hogwarts to have a meeting in Hogsmeade with the Dark Lord. Snape was insisting that I be the distraction again, but as I had already done it twice, I was  _not_  keen on doing it again.

"Regulus, you're doing it."

The voice was not Snape's this time, but Rabastan Lestrange's. I sighed; I knew he would force me to do it whether I wanted to or not. His tactics were not the same as Snape's; he was bigger than me, and therefore more dangerous.

"But why can't Snape?" I asked, one last attempt, one last whine. Rabastan grinned cruelly.

"Because you, Regulus dearest, are a whiny, bratty fifth year, and the rest of us just happen to be seventh years."

I scowled at him as Snape sneered at me. "Fine. But you can all tell the Dark Lord what a good follower I am."

It was for him. That man that would easily kill anyone in my family -  _everyone_  in my family, if I didn't do as directed by him.

 _Voldemort._  I said the named in my head regularly, to prove to myself that I wasn't scared of him. It was a lie, of course. I was scared to death of him. I would do anything he asked me to, even if I didn't actually believe in what he was doing – which, sometimes, I didn't.

"Come on, Reg, grab your broom so we can go play some Quidditch," Rabastan sneered. "Carrow! Where are you?"

I groaned and made my way out to the Quidditch pitch – without a jacket, despite the cold, because Rabastan thought it would be harder to hit me if I was wearing more layers. I thought he just liked to see me suffer. For some reason, he didn't like me. He liked my cousin Bellatrix – even though she and his brother were together, he was quite taken with her. Maybe he thought I would be like my brother.

It hurt to think about Sirius. He was, at one point, everything I had strived to be. Brave, strong, funny, loved by everyone…gradually, however, he had become rebellious. I remembered my father, thinking it was a good thing, thinking he was learning how to be a man. Soon after, however, when Sirius had started to argue with our parents about Muggles and Mudbloods, my father had started to grow angry. Gradually, he began to pretend Sirius wasn't even around. My father was angrier every Christmas, every summer when Sirius spent excessive time with the blood traitor Potters. Part of me wanted to go with him every now and then. The Sorting Hat had considered putting me in Gryffindor. I'd begged it not to.

Because I was not brave. I was not like my brother. I was not brave. I had not been brave then; I was not brave now. There was a rebellious streak in me, but I hid it as much as I could. I didn't want to be killed or worse, disowned. I wanted acceptance.

That was why, when many of the boys in Slytherin had started taking the Mark, I had joined right up. At my age, I was not required to do the more difficult things – kill people, torture people, or worse – but I was bossed around incessantly. It bothered me, but a person couldn't just hand in their resignation to Voldemort. Which meant I was stuck in the situation I had gotten myself into. The one Sirius had been smart enough to keep himself out of.

Sometimes I wondered why I hadn't turned out more like Sirius. I really admired him, despite what anyone thought. I went to all his Quidditch matches and silently cheered him on. I laughed loudly at Snape every time a prank was played on him by the Marauders – it was okay because no one really liked Snape, so even Slytherins laughed at him.

I mounted my broom and flew a couple of times around the pitch, the cold air biting into my skin.

"Hey, Black, can we use you for Beater practice?" Carrow shouted over the wind. He was holding his Beater's bat. I felt a sudden sense of dread and took a deep breath to brace myself as I started toward him.

Rabastan flew up behind me, and I felt sudden pain on my back as he hit me with his bat. I gasped and heard a choked cry that had probably come out of my mouth.

"Sorry, Reg, didn't see you there!" he said, grinning as he spun around in front of me.

I nodded and managed to say, "It's – fine."

A moment later, Carrow's fist made contact with my face. "Sorry, Black, thought you were the Quaffle!"

"Easy bisdake do bake," I slurred, unable to breathe through my nose.

More pain, this time to my ear. And then to the back of my head.

"I think thad's eduff," I said loudly. "I'b leabid."

"I don't think you are, Black," said Carrow. "You still need to get knocked out, or it won't be believable."

"But – "

Rabastan silenced me by hitting me in the mouth. It stung, and I could feel my lip splitting.

"It's eduff!" I shouted, despite the pain. "You cad sdop!"

But Rabastan seemed to be enjoying himself too much. This was even worse than the last time. I looked around desperately, causing my head to spin, trying to see if anyone was around to see the abuse I was going through. No one was around, however, and it wasn't as if I had expected them to be. It was early on New Year's Day, and everyone was probably hungover and asleep in their beds, the way I should be.

Rabastan's bat suddenly made contact with the top of my head. I heard a dull crack, and then everything went completely black.


	17. Sixteen

My head hurt.

Groaning, I opened my eyes. There was a heavy weight on my stomach – James.  _Oh no – what if we – oh no, no, no…_

I looked down, holding my breath, dreading what I might see – but I was fully dressed, although my clothes were a little rumpled and more than a little dirty.

"James," I said, and the sound of my voice made my head throb. Instead of talking, I attempted to shove him off of me – but moving made my headache even worse.

With a sudden burst of strength, I managed to roll out from under him, succeeding in making the room spin around me. I turned away from James and vomited.

Sirius laughed loudly.

I turned my head painfully. "Shut up."

"Hungover?"

"And you aren't?" I asked. Why was his voice so loud?

"I've built up a strong resistance to alcohol. Or at least, to hangovers. My mum was always drunk when she was pregnant with me, you see. And my father probably was when I was conceived – who would want to shag that?"

"I'm glad you think of your mother like that," I said dryly. "Is there a cure?"

"Luckily for you, Jamesy here always gets the worst hangovers. So he's got a huge store of potions Moony helped him invent that get rid of them – none to ward them off, though, which would probably be the better idea, don't you think?"

"Can I just have some of the bloody potion?" I snapped, and then winced at my own voice.

He snorted. "Irritability. Nausea. Headache. Sensitivity to noise. I'm just waiting for the diarrhea, and then you and James will have the same symptoms. Fate, that is."

"Shut up," I said, and then jumped to my feet – a stupid move, as it caused me immense dizziness – and rushed to the bathroom. His reminding me of certain bodily functions had obviously triggered this. It had nothing to do with fate.

However, I heard his laughter even as I leaned my elbows on my thighs and buried my head in my hands. Wanker.

And I was an idiot. Who knew what could have happened while we were all under the influence? I had spotted Marly, and her hair was a vivid shade of purple – what if I had done something equally stupid?

I groaned as I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked terrible. My eyes were bloodshot, and there were huge bags beneath them. The makeup I'd been wearing was smudged all over my face. My hair was a terrible tangled mess. I splashed my face with some water, then slowly and steadily walked back to Sirius, who was now innocently holding a bottle of something out to me.

"You take some first," I said suspiciously. He shrugged and gulped some down.

"Doesn't do anything," he said, smirking. My head pounded loudly in my ears, causing me to almost recoil. I grabbed the bottle and drank.

"Thanks," I said, sitting down on an empty armchair and rubbing my temples. "I'm exhausted. See you later?"

He nodded. "I'll tell Prongsie about the new argument for fate being real," he added with an impish smirk. I stuck my tongue out at him and left.

About twenty minutes later, showered, changed into pyjamas, and buried beneath my covers, eyes closed against the faint light coming from behind the shades that covered the windows. I tucked my still dully aching head under the pillows.

Slowly but surely, I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

"Lily? Dumbledore's scheduled another Order meeting."

I rolled around to face the door. James was standing there tentatively, his hazel eyes directed at me, as intense as ever.

"When?" I asked groggily.

"Next weekend," he replied promptly. "Saturday right after the Quidditch match."

I nodded. "Okay."

He hesitated, and then asked, "Are you okay?"

I stared at him, confused, for a minute, and then it hit me, hard – the funeral, the park, my sister…

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Really?"

I looked back up at him, and then shook my head. "No. I'm not."

"Neither am I," he admitted, sitting down next to me gingerly. "I – I'm not sure if I ever will be again."

I laid my head on his shoulder – he was stunned and, honestly, so was I, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" I asked, slightly nervously, as I wasn't sure what I had done or what he had done, either.

He shook his head, smiling ruefully, not quite meeting my eyes, and said, "Not really." He slipped his arm around me, squeezing gently. "So where do we stand now?"

"I'd say we're friends," I said decisively. "Because I'm not sure if I can be more than that at the moment, not just to you, but to anyone."

_And it would kill me to be less than that._

"What about Whitby?" he asked, his voice one of measured calm.

"He – I don't know. He's just someone I flirt with. No real feelings involved."

He smiled a little bit. "So you really don't love him?"

I punched him lightly. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

He looked taken aback until he noticed my smirk, at which point he said, "We argue too much, Lily."

I nodded. "It's strange. I don't think anyone makes me as genuinely angry as you do."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"No – that's not what I meant."

_I meant that you're one of the few people that can inspire true emotion in me anymore._

"Right."

He stretched out on my bed, closing his eyes and muttering, "Hope you don't mind?"

"No," I murmured, trying not to feel uncomfortable.

And then, all at once, he said softly, "Do you tell the truth when you're drunk?"

"Besides last night, I've never been drunk," I replied. "Why? Do you remember something?"

"No," he whispered, turning away from me. "I was just … wondering."

"Mm-hm."

He didn't say anything, only lay there, his shirt untucked, his jeans rumpled, the hair on the back of his head standing on end as always.

Suddenly, I had a huge urge to ruffle his hair the way he always did, to lie down beside him, to –

"You should leave now," I said quietly.

He stood abruptly and replied, "See you, then."

I nodded and waited for him to leave before lying back down on the bed, breathing in the scent of pineapple soap I knew he favoured.

***

School started up again the Monday after New Year's. We spent the first two days reviewing everything we had done for the entire first term. Rumours of Death Eaters were running wild, but they always were, especially lately.

We had, over the past few weeks of Potions, been brewing Veritaserum. Since the full moon cycle was now over, the potion was supposed to be completely finished. Slughorn had warned us we would be testing the potions on each other, and today was, finally, the day to do it.

Calvin and I, sitting before our cauldrons, were talking quietly. I didn't think he knew about my father's death, but he surprised me when he said, "I heard what happened over break."

"Oh?" I said, not really listening to him as I sniffed at my potion. "What happened?"

"I heard about – you know. Your dad."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Lily. He was probably a wonderful man. I wish I got to meet him."

I looked at him; he was smiling a little bit, almost apologetically, his pretty blue eyes trained on my green ones. His face looked sincere; I honestly thought he felt bad for me.

"I'm sorry about the way I behaved at Slughorn's party. I didn't think I would get so drunk."

I shrugged. "It's fine. Just – don't do it again, okay?"

He nodded and placed his mouth gently against my cheek – almost against my lips, but I managed to avoid it somehow as I realised James was half-watching us. "Sorry, Lily."

"It's fine."

I put some of the potion into a flask, labelled it, and walked up to Slughorn's desk.

"How was your Christmas, Professor?" I asked.

"Lovely, lovely. I enjoyed it quite a lot – some of my connections chipped in and bought me several boxes of crystallized pineapple and bottles of oak-matured mead. It was really quite friendly of them, but I assume they were thanking me – after all, had it not been for me, it is doubtful they'd have reached such high spots!"

"That's sweet," I said absently.

He then looked at me sadly. "I heard about what happened to your father."

"Yes." Most people had.

"I would like to offer my deepest apologies. He was a Muggle, so of course I never got to meet him, but I am positive that, if I had, I would have greatly enjoyed his company."

"Thanks, Professor. It means a lot."

He nodded and said, "Now get back to your seat. We've got to test these potions!"

I walked slowly back to my seat, where Calvin was just getting ready to label his Veritaserum. "You certainly talked to him for a long time," he said absently as he stood up.

"Don't tell me you're jealous of an old Potions professor?" I asked, slapping him lightly. He smiled at me and continued on his way to Slughorn.

Upon receiving the last stragglers' potions, Slughorn stood up and said, "We will now be testing them. I will pass out, to each one of you, a potion, and you will use it to ask your partners questions you already know the answers to. Good luck, now!"

He gave Marly's potion to Calvin – I shuddered, as she was a terrible potion-maker and the liquid in the flask was a blinding shade of pink – and gave me Remus's, lucky for Calvin as it was a very, very pale shade of green, which meant it was very close to actual Veritaserum.

"Er – you first," I said nervously, and he grinned.

"Suredy-do, Mrs. Head Girl," he replied, opening his mouth.

I carefully opened the flash and let a few drops of the liquid drip onto his tongue. He blinked once, closed his mouth, and coughed.

"Er…"

Suddenly, my mind was blank. What on earth was I supposed to ask him? It wasn't as if I knew much about him, for all that he was supposed to be my boyfriend.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James's piercing stare from his table with Sirius.

"Do you like James?" I asked as inspiration hit me.

"No," said Calvin tonelessly.

"Why not?"

"Because he likes you," Calvin replied.

"That's the only reason?"

"No."

"What's the rest of it?" I asked, sighing wearily. Remus's potion obviously didn't force Calvin to tell the whole truth – only part of it.

"You like him back."

Truth. Veritaserum was a truth potion. I shook my head rapidly.

"Er – alright, then."

James was beside me suddenly. "Does the potion work?" he asked me, but it was Calvin who told him that it did.

"Right then. Whitby, are you as witless as you seem?" James asked, crossing his arms.

"James!" I hissed as Calvin said, "I have some wits."

"Do you really love Lily?" James asked coldly.

"James, stop it!"

"Yes."

I froze. So he hadn't been lying.

I looked at Calvin, and wondered what was wrong with me. He was a beautiful boy, honestly. He was everything I wanted, everything I  _needed_ , everything I would once have described my perfect man as – but he meant nothing to me except for a vague fondness and a slight desire for friendship, and I knew exactly why.

The reason I didn't want more than friendship with Calvin was because of the young man standing beside me. My mind jumped to the day my father had been killed. My last partly lucid thought had informed me that I loved James. Did I love James? I shook my head to clear it.

"Here, have some of the antidote," I said quietly, holding the small vial Slughorn had given us out. Calvin took it and drained it in one gulp.

"Your turn," he said, looking warily at the flask of pink potion. I realised suddenly that James was no longer next to me, and felt strangely alone because of it. I looked toward his table, and couldn't resist a grin. Marly was interrogating Sirius.

"Hang on, let me see what they're talking about," I said to Calvin. He wordlessly followed me as Marly continued to ask Sirius questions.

"Did you ever cheat on me, Sirius?" she hissed, and I could see the worry and the fear in her eyes.

"Marly – are you okay?" I asked, taking her clenched left fist and gently prying her fingers apart.

"I need to know," she whispered, as Sirius said, "I never cheated on you, and I never planned to."

I glanced at the flask of Veritaserum they were using – it was mine. No wonder she trusted it – Marly held my potions in higher esteem than even Slughorn.

"Do you still love me?" Marly was asking Sirius.

His eyes glazed over, he replied, "Always."

"Told you!" I said triumphantly. Marly was smiling weakly.

"If I were to apologise to you, would you forgive me?"

"Of course," Sirius murmured.

I glanced at Marly. She swiped angrily at her eyes with her left hand, which came away damp.

"It's okay, Marly. He still loves you. You still have a chance to be happy."

Surprisingly, James's voice was both gentle and bitter as he said this, and I couldn't help but notice his eyes flicker to me. I might have imagined it, however, because next second he was looking with slight concern at Sirius. "Shall we give him the antidote, then?" he asked, almost worriedly.

"Why?" I asked curiously. "I think I like the truthful Sirius better."

"Yes, but – we don't want him saying anything we don't want everyone to know, do we?" James said logically.

I shrugged. "He's not  _my_  partner."

James grinned a little bit, and opened the bottle of antidote. Sirius blinked when he drank it and gave an animated start. "What did I say?" he asked immediately.

Marly looked at him for a moment, and then smiled a little before turning on her heel and walking back to her seat.

After a moment of an awkward silence during which Sirius looked from me to James, frowning slightly, I waved them a falsely cheery goodbye. Calvin slipped a protective arm around my shoulders, hugged me close, and led me back to our seats.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding up the vial of potion and looking at it critically. "Lily, I know Marly's your best friend, but this potion looks poisonous."

I shrugged. "Slughorn wouldn't be a proper Potions Master if he couldn't identify poison, could he?"

"I suppose you're right," Calvin muttered. "C'mere."

"Go on, then," I muttered, opening my mouth. He tipped some of the potion into it.

I coughed as I swallowed the stuff – it tasted foul – and then suddenly –

Everything was black, and then there was red, and then there was pain –

And then there was nothing.


	18. Seventeen

It was like a throbbing. No, a pounding. No, that wasn't quite right either. It was more like a pulsing. Yes, that was it — a painful pulsing in my head that refused to go away.

I groaned. Waking up with a horrible headache for the second time in a row was  _not_ fun. And why the hell had I gotten drunk again, anyway, after that dreadful first experience?

But wait. I didn't remember getting drunk. I didn't remember anything, really, past —

Oh, no. Oh  _no_. Calvin couldn't love me! I didn't love him, wasn't there some rule or something about not being able to love someone without them loving you back? Oh, this was horrible. This was terrible. This was —

"Miss Evans, you're awake, I see."

I looked around wildly, a bad idea as it caused my head to give a painful throb that sent my head spinning back into semi-blackness. I blinked rapidly before closing my eyes and letting my head drop back onto my pillow.

"Yeah," I mumbled in response to Madam Pomfrey. "What's wrong with my head?"

"I'm afraid the Veritaserum you took in Potions wasn't really Veritaserum," she replied. "Why they let you test your own potions, I will never know, but the one you took was mixed too late, causing a chemical imbalance — "

"That causes it to become almost equal to cobra venom," I groaned. How had I not noticed before? I'd read about it somewhere. It was Marly's potion. I knew she was a horrible potion maker, I had noticed it, too, but why hadn't I seen the "Veritaserum" for what it truly was? Maybe it was because. I couldn't really think of a reason. I supposed that I had been preoccupied, maybe, with Calvin, and Marly, and Sirius, and James, and of course my parents, and ... Just everything.

"Yes, exactly." The nurse frowned a little, as if angry that I had interrupted her. "If you already knew that, why didn't you refuse to drink it?"

"I didn't realize," I admitted. "I'm sorry. When can I leave?"

"If you take this potion regularly, you should be able to leave within a week, although it would probably be a better idea to keep you here longer, but the headmaster insists…" She stopped and smiled at me a little bit, then said, "I assure you, this medicine is very strong, but no where nearly as poisonous as cobra venom."

Madam Pomfrey held out a small glass of electric blue something — my brain tried to classify it, but thinking too much made my head hurt.

"Drink up. There are some friends here to see you," she added, a little tensely. "You have fifteen minutes, and then you need your rest."

I nodded — a bad idea — and forced the potion down. It was almost flavorless except for a vague aftertaste of roasted peppers.

"Thank you," I said, and Madam Pomfrey nodded before walking off. I didn't turn my head to see where, but less than a minute later the Marauders, Alice, Marly, and even Dorcas and Emmeline were standing next to me. Calvin was there too, all nervous smiles and fleeting touches, as if he thought me too fragile to hold his hand. I was glad for it — it meant I could delay the inevitable "I'm sorry, Calvin, I don't love you," for a little bit longer.

"Hi, Lily," said Emmeline in that quiet and overly cheerful voice people use on sick people. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks, how are you?" I replied dryly. She grinned a little bit .

"Sorry. Stupid question."

"Very," said Remus, but he grinned at her all the same.

"Lily," mumbled Marly, and then looked at me. "Shit, Lily, I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright," I said. "Just — ask for help in the future, okay?" I tried to turn my head to look at her, but that made me dizzy again, so I contented myself with smiling at her and reaching for the hand I was almost positive belonged to her.

They made small talk for a little bit — light, airy stuff, a mention of schoolwork — and stayed away from the real topics. The news for one. What was going on in the world.

"Lily, you've been out since yesterday. Are you going to be alright?" Alice asked me when Pomfrey came to kick them out.

I nodded. "Just come and see me later. I don't want to be left all alone in here."

Madam Pomfrey bustled around me once they left, cleaning sheets with a wave of her wand and refilling my water jug. Eventually she gave me more of the medicine and said, "Sleep soon, you need your rest."

To which I replied, "I will," even though the potion had only made me feel more awake and even a little bit better. However, she took it as true and disappeared into her office, leaving me alone.

Only — not quite.

If I squinted a bit, I could see an unmoving body out of the corner of my eye. For a while I watched it, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to give it medicine or try and wake it up or — something. But it wasn't until sleep began to tug at the corners of my consciousness that Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn came into the hospital wing.

"Another distraction, Dumbledore?" Slughorn asked, and his voice was almost fearful. "Surely they wouldn't have used the same student twice?"

"He was hurt Sunday," Dumbledore muttered. "The same day Rabastan Lestrange was caught sneaking into the Gryffindor common room — why?"

He seemed to be talking to himself more than Slughorn. I for one was wondering why they hadn't come to check on whoever it was — my mind seemed to know, but I refused to let it overthink it — until Wednesday, if he'd been hurt three days ago.

They continued to talk — "Regulus Black twice, though? Surely they aren't that stupid, of course we'd realize what was happening eventually," — and my mind continued to work furiously until Dumbledore's calm voice lulled me into sleep.

The week I spent in the hospital wing was among the most boring of my life. Dumbledore and Slughorn did not return to discuss Regulus again; he left two days after I woke up. Madam Pomfrey continued to fuss over me the way she did with all of her patients, though like the teachers, she seemed more distracted with each passing day. After classes and sometimes during lunch I got visitors — these varied from first years wondering what had happened and why the Head Girl was in the Hospital Wing to Slughorn, apologising profusely about the potion he'd had me fed, to Calvin, who kissed me lightly on the mouth every time and sometimes sat with me through the night, just holding my hand and talking to me.

The problem with Calvin was, he was everything I had ever thought I wanted. He was everything my mind told me I needed. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't mean, he wasn't even _ugly_. He said all the right things. He did things right, he was clean and polished, but for some reason, he meant nothing to me — not in the way I meant something to him. And that hurt, because I knew he really did like me, maybe even love me, and if I had been him, I would have probably broken a long time ago, because anyone with half a mind could see that I wasn't in love with Calvin. Sure, I could pretend. But I had never been good about lying about emotions. I could hide them, sure, but I couldn't _fake_ them.

Marly visited me almost as much as Calvin. I could tell she felt guilty about the potion, but really, it wasn't her fault. If anything, it was mine for not paying enough attention, or even Slughorn, for giving me the potion in the first place. Everyone knew Marly was a terrible potion-maker.

The person who came to see me the least was, surprisingly enough, James. He came with the Marauders most of the time, but although sometimes the rest of them came alone or in pairs or with a girlfriend or something, James never visited when there was a possibility of us being alone together. Part of me thought he was over me and too embarrassed to tell a sick person he didn't like her anymore. It kind of relieved me but at the same time saddened me immensely. James had become a constant in my life, and to not see him for an entire day or more felt strange.

Eventually, I got Alice to start bringing me my homework. Madam Pomfrey still wouldn't let me get up for longer than it took to go to my bathroom (and anyway, my head started spinning every time I did), so I was still incapacitated for a bit.

When I was finally allowed to return to Gryffindor Tower, I was shocked to find that James was no longer sleeping in his private dormitory. Sirius told me that since I'd been poisoned, James had taken to sleeping in the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, which meant that I would be alone in the vast emptiness of the Heads' Rooms.

It irked to realise that the thought frightened me a little. If I couldn't even sleep in there without James, then what  _could_ I do without him?

*

I told Sirius about his brother being in the Hospital Wing again. Sirius told me that he thought it was a mystery worth solving but that his brother had gotten himself into this mess and he probably liked all the attention, anyway.

*

I didn't forget my birthday, but I didn't exactly remember it, either. I was too used to the letter (delivered by a random barn owl from Diagon Alley, usually, as my parents didn't own their own owl) and the large parcel that accompanied it from my mother and father and sister. In the midst of studying and enjoying life, I had forgotten my birthday twice before; my parents had always reminded me. Thus, it wasn't until halfway through lunch, when I noticed that my friends were not paying much attention to me, that I realised I had been born eighteen years ago this day.

They didn't seem to remember, and it wasn't as if I could blame them, with everything going on, so I said nothing and left lunch dejectedly to get a good seat in Charms. On my way there, I passed at least three prefects, all of whom wished me a happy birthday. I wondered why these random people who had nothing to do with my life, not _really_ , anyway, remembered my birthday, when I didn't, when my best  _friends_ didn't.

I carried on through the last few classes of the day gloomily, not really paying attention during class and looking forward only to skipping dinner in favour of a long nap in my room.

This, however, was not to be, as when I entered the Heads' Common Room, I found Marly, Alice, Emmeline, Dorcas, Calvin, Frank, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and (my heart skipped a beat against my will) James all scrambling to hide.

"Er… what's going on?" I asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"SURPRISE!" shouted Sirius.

Remus informed me, "You kind of, er, caught us by surprise."

The irony of the statement made me laugh despite myself.

Marly said defensively, "Well, we tried."

"I know! And thank you — " My eyes took in the room in detail for the first time. It was transformed. There were red and gold balloons everywhere; streamers hung from the ceiling, magically enchanted to wind themselves around things like hair and people; there were large banners that wished me a happy birthday; somehow, they had managed to fit a dancefloor in the room; there was a large table filled with food that I assumed had come from house elves and Hogsmeade; and, perhaps most noticeable of all, James was smiling at me, and his teeth were showing, and his hazel eyes showed a spark of actual happiness, and I said, "Thank you  _so much_."

Calvin grinned at me and said, "You're welcome," and waved his wand. Instantly, loud music started pouring out of every inch of the room. "Don't worry, we're completely sound proofed," he explained when I glanced anxiously toward the door.

Sirius muttered in my ear, "We didn't want to invite him, but Alice said we had to." I couldn't resist a giggle, and almost regretted it, but then I decided that tonight was my birthday and for a few hours, I wasn't going to regret anything.

"Let's open presents!" Calvin said, and by the way he kept glancing hopefully toward a table in the corner that was stacked with gifts, I could tell he was anxious about what he had gotten me.

"That sounds great to me!" Sirius said enthusiastically, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me toward the table. "Open mine first!"

It was, predictably, a box of Zonko's products. I laughed. "I didn't guess that one at all."

Sirius said, "Well, girls are hard to find gifts for," and pouted.

I laughed again and reached for a small box, but Calvin said, "No, leave that one for the end of the night," and he seemed a bit nervous, so I stopped and took a neatly-wrapped rectangular gift instead. This one held a book about vampires from Remus, which I thanked him heartily for — I'd once had a fascination with vampires. Before I'd know they actually existed, of course.

All of the gifts were typical — jewelry, books, the usual chocolate — but when I tried to open the black box, Calvin tugged it away from me and promised he'd let me see later. With a sense of foreboding about what it was, I faked a yawn so that I could go to bed and avoid him a bit.

"I hope you're not tired," said Marly however, foiling my plans. "We're going to be partying  _all_ night!"

"I don't know about  _all_  night," I protested, but allowed myself to be dragged onto the dancefloor and swung around a few times by her. It made me even more tired than I already was, but there was a bit of a light in her eyes, almost as if the life was returning to her, and I felt almost happy to know that she was letting go a little. If she didn't, she'd be sad forever, and that just wasn't Marly — Marly was athletic, perky, cheerful, smart, energetic; she wasn't depressed, heartbroken, practically  _dead_ , and if she was acting like it, it was because of what the war had done to her, what the war had done to her  _family_.

"I love you, Marlene McKinnon. You are my best friend in the world," I said, and it was mushy and also kind of pointless, but it was true and there wasn't enough love in the world, and she needed to know that I loved her, so I pulled her into a hug.

"I love you too. Happy birthday, Lily," she replied. And for a short moment, I was really, truly happy.

It was a strange feeling, but it was good. It was me. Being happy again.

Once I had danced with nearly everyone at the party, Alice and Frank had disappeared into James's room, and Peter had fallen asleep, stomach full of chicken legs and butterbeer, Calvin tugged me into a corner.

"Lily," he said. "I really, honestly love you."

I found no words to say in response (what was I supposed to say?  _"Sorry, Calvin, I don't love you. Never did, never will."_ ). Perhaps he thought me speechless out of joy, because he smiled almost reassuringly at me and continued, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

And that was when I knew what was coming, when I realised that everything I had been dreading since I'd opened gifts was about happen, and I wanted to turn and run, but he was already down on one knee and clutching my hand. I could feel James's eyes boring into the back of my head. Somehow the music seemed muted. Sirius was pulling faces behind Calvin's back, but I couldn't laugh. Remus was frowning slightly and gripping his bottle too tightly. Marly looked tense from where Sirius was holding her to him. Emmeline was chewing her lip and wringing her hands. Dorcas was glaring at me as if daring me to tell Calvin I loved him back.

Meanwhile, Calvin was only staring up at me. He didn't seem to notice everyone standing around us, even while I was noticing them, the delicate lines of their faces, the ragged sounds of their breathing, steady pulsing of their hearts (although perhaps some of that was imagined) even more than usual.

"I know what you're thinking. This is kind of a weird place to do this. But it was where we had our first official date, remember?"

I did remember. It hadn't been all that long ago. What was he  _thinking_ , proposing to a girl he barely knew?

"You might think this is sudden, but I've loved you for years and I just really want us together, I want us bound together by magic."

Yes, because the only way we'd ever be bound together by rope was if someone tied us down somewhere together.

My heart was pounding in unwanted expectation. Every girl wanted a guy like Calvin — sweet, good-looking, handsome, smart, the list went on — every girl but me.

"Lily Evans. I love you. I really do. Will you marry me?"

Marriage. I was eighteen. I wasn't in love. Not with Calvin, anyway. I couldn't lead him on. I couldn't  _do_ that. It wasn't the type of person I was. I didn't want to get married, anyway. Not to him. Not to anyone, yet. But especially not to him. I was sure I would never want to marry him. I didn't love him. I would never love him, because while he was what my mind looked for in a boyfriend, he wasn't what my heart looked for. He wasn't right for me.

"I mean, when we get out of school. We can live in a nice flat until I've raised enough to buy us a home."

Calvin's eyes were hopeful and a little worried, staring up at me, wide and almost ashamed, and it was breaking my heart, making him wait like this, making him think I was going to give him a pleasant surprise, only to say,

"No, Calvin. No, I won't marry you."

I stared at him for a split second, maybe more, but when his face started to crumple, I gave up and did the most un-Gryffindor thing possible — I ran away.

* * *

 **A/N:** Confession time: I love Calvin Whitby. He's one of my favorite characters, probably entirely because I put him through so much shit. Anyway, enjoy! The story will be 34 or 35 chapters plus an epilogue. Please leave a review :)


	19. Eighteen: From Calvin's Perspective

Heartbreak, I decided, was the deepest pain I had ever felt.

I'd had worse injuries, physically - I counted the time I'd practically split my head open playing Quidditch when I was ten among one of the worst - but this pain went deeper. It delved deep within me, until I could hardly breathe except that I was breathing far too hard.

I hadn't know I was getting so attached. I'd known I was in love, but I had definitely not known I was this in love.

I had proposed to her, the ultimate show of love. I had pledged her my entire life. In that one question - " _Will you marry me?_ " I had given her everything I had to my name. My future children, my future home, my future money, everything I currently owned, and, of course, my eternal love.

But she hadn't wanted it. She hadn't wanted  _me_. She had broken my heart, and though she had looked devastated, I knew it couldn't possibly be as horrible for her as it had been for me. She couldn't possibly feel as shitty as I felt at that moment. She didn't know what it was like to have someone break your heart. It did not feel like like my whole world was collapsing around me; it felt more like I was collapsing while my whole world went on without me. She had chosen someone else over me. I felt like nothing would ever be the same again.

No one in the Hufflepuff common room noticed that my facial expression was locked in place, jaw set forcefully into an emotionless grimace that held far more emotion than anyone cared to try to figure out. Or if they did, they chose not to say anything.

Someone asked, "Calvin, have you done Slughorn's homework yet? Because I think I confused the properties of glumbumble and graphorn. And I'm not sure what goes into the Alihotsy anti - Calvin? Are you listening to me?"

I didn't reply - I couldn't reply. I was scared that if I opened my mouth, my insides would spill out of it and leave the shell of my body lying on the floor, jaw still set in an agonizingly tight grimace, eyes wide open and not quite wet.

I knew that sometimes, broken hearts didn't mend themselves.

I remembered my parents' divorce clearly. My mother had simply ceased to be in love with my father.

He never stopped loving her. That was clear from my every visit to his home in Kent. He never moved on. He still had photographs of them, taken during the early years of their marriage, before they ever fought about stupid things like who should next go grocery shopping or what type of owl to buy me for my birthday.

It was obviously heartbreak for my father. I hadn't realized it at the time, but he had shattered during their divorce. He would never love another woman, of that I was sure. He simply wouldn't be  _able_  to. He didn't enjoy life anymore. He simply lived it, working as much as possible to distract him from the pain that was thriving inside him.

My mother, however, had moved on almost instantly. She had remarried only a year later, to a man that I despised only on principle.

She was never heartbroken. She had done the heartbreaking. She never appeared to regret her decision or miss my father, at least not to me. I lived with her, but she was not the same person she was when my parents were married. She was colder to me and warmer to her husband. She never picked fights. She was just -  _different._

I wondered if that was how Lily was feeling. If, even now, she had thrown herself into the arms of the man I could clearly see she truly loved, James Potter.

Some deluded part of me believed there was still hope. We hadn't technically broken up - she was still my girlfriend, if nothing else. I could still hug her and kiss her and love her, even if she didn't love me back.

But a far more intelligent part of me denied me even this indulgence. I knew, in my deepest of hearts, that she had always been meant for Potter, even if she hadn't always been in love with him. It wasn't as if Lily didn't have the ability to break up with  _me_  if I didn't just do it.

I knew she would always be in love with him, no matter how much that hurt me. I'd always known what I'd had with Lily wouldn't last. Anyone could look in her eyes and see she was in love with him. And it did hurt me. It tore me inside with agony, to picture her with another man, holding him, kissing him, loving him. She would marry him, of course, and later have his children. They would not fall out of love. They would grow old together. They would watch as each others' hair grew white, as their joints got achey, and they would smile and hold hands through it all. They would watch as their children grew, and kiss in front of their grandchildren, turning them all into hopeless romantics who believed that love could last forever when nothing else could.

I loved her. I wanted her to be happy, of course. Part of me whined that I wanted her to be happy  _with me_ , but I couldn't allow that part to win. I loved her, yes. Maybe she even loved me, too, but not at all in a romantic way. Certainly not in a sexual way. The only way she could ever love me was through friendship.

I planned to make the most of that, of course, after the wound healed and I went back to attempting to fall in love. I wasn't going to become a hard and bitter shell like my father. I would love again, and maybe even be better at it this time.

I was going to have to break up with her, if she didn't do it first. I simply could not allow this to go on. I wanted her to be happy, even if it meant I would have to remember her beautiful face every day of my life, remember her being happy with someone else. With James Potter, famed Chaser and best friend of the Most Eligible Bachelor of the school since third year, no less.

Tomorrow I was going to have to face Lily and tell her we were over even though there was nothing I wanted less. I was going to have to face people I knew every day, and they would likely do one of three things: tell me Potter deserved her, tell me I was being melodramatic because there was so much worse going on right now, or tell me they felt bad for me.

It was going to be hell.

But for now, I didn't have to face anything. I could bury my face in my pillow and let myself cry and hope that nobody in my dormitory held it against me.

And if I felt something inside me break, I ignored it, because that was the way I had always been. I would ignore the break, and eventually it would mend itself. It didn't matter if it mended unevenly - it would mend, and everything would go back to some degree of normal.


	20. Nineteen

Understandably, Calvin avoided me.

He didn't sit anywhere near me at prefect meetings. He didn't even look at me - or James, either, for that matter. He stared at his knees the entire time we sat there, discussing rules and patrols and everything else that didn't really matter.

He barely talked during Potions class. His only words were instructions or questions or suggestions. He never once met my eyes. As a result, we ended up with few good potions and no great ones.

The problem was, I knew it was my fault. I knew I had broken his heart, and I knew that I should have told him about my feelings way earlier than I had. I knew I should've broken up with him a long, long time ago, before he'd gotten too attached.

His grades were dropping. I could tell by the way Slughorn frowned at him when he passed back his essays, by the way Flitwick muttered to him to get back on track, by the way Saggese sighed and shook her head when she asked him questions in class, only to be answered by a few moments of silence and, occasionally, a wrong answer.

We did not talk. We probably should have discussed where we stood, relationship-wise, the day after his proposal. That might have made everything less hard on both of us, him especially. But we didn't. We simply ignored each other completely.

But neither of us dated. I didn't think he even spoke to anyone at all, except for when he had to. Neither of us had said the words. We were still technically together.

When a week had passed, and then another, I realized that one of us had to say something, or we would continue on in this hopeless sham of a relationship for way too long.

So I cornered him the day before Valentine's Day (the day that should have been the happiest of our relationship), after a prefect meeting.

"Calvin," I said quietly, gripping his arm. He ripped it away from me and glared at his feet.

"I thought you loved me," he whispered. "I really think I did."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, you're not." He looked up at me. "You're not sorry. And if you are, don't be. Because there's no reason to be.  _I'm_  sorry. For deluding myself into believing you would ever love me."

"It's not your fault. You don't pick who you love. I should have told you I didn't love you earlier."

"Yeah, well." Calvin sighed. "We're breaking up, right?"

I nodded. "We're kind of obligated to. Anyway, I think - I might be in love with someone else."

"Yeah. I figured."

"Friends?" I asked, half-heartedly hopeful.

Calvin said, "Yeah, right. I couldn't be  _just friends_  with you. I would always want more, and you'd never be able to give it."

I repeated, "I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry." Suddenly, completely without warning, Calvin threw his arms around me and held me tightly to him. "I'll always love you. At least a little bit. If he breaks your heart, I'll still be here for you. Even if you just need a friend."

I decided not to say he was contradicting himself. Instead, I said, "Thank you."

He smiled, a little bit, and turned away.

I watched him leave, and suddenly, I really needed a hug.

***

Nightmares were the bane of my existence. They came against my will every night that I got any sleep.

There were nightmares of my friends and family, dead, lying around me, blank eyes staring up at me, accusing, as if I had neglected to save them. There were nightmares of Voldemort and his Death Eaters coming after me, evil and dangerous, with their Unforgivable Curses and bone-chilling white masks. There were nightmares of a life where the Ministry and Hogwarts had been taken by Voldemort, where Muggle-borns were not allowed at school and only purebloods had a say in what happened.

The worst part of the nightmares, however, was that I wasn't the only one who got them.

Every morning, my classmates showed up with more frightened looks in their eyes and darker circles under them. Every night I crept into the Gryffindor common room, more people were huddled together, talking in quiet voices about the war. The worst nights, though, were the ones where we tried to find anything to talk about that had nothing to do with the war.

This was, however, becoming increasingly difficult, as more people were murdered, more husbands and mothers and brothers and daughters and aunts and nephews and grandfathers and granddaughters. More people lost family, friends of family, neighbors, coworkers.

In other words, we fell into despair.

Life went on, but not the way it once had. We tried our hardest to focus on school, but even our teachers could not pretend that there was no world outside the safe haven that Hogwarts had become. They talked in low voices in the hallways between classes, looked distracted and unfocused during their lectures, and often skipped meals to keep watch in the hallways.

The worst realization I had happened the day after Calvin and I broke up. It was Valentine's Day, or at least right after Valentine's Day, and very late at night.

It was one of my many sleepless nights. They were happening more and more often as I grew more and more fearful of nightmares. I took dreamless sleep potions once a week so that my body could have the rest it needed. I never took enough to grow dependent on it.

On that particular night, I heard screaming. This would not have been shocking if I had been in the Gryffindor Common Room, where students were often awakened by their roommates' screams.

But I wasn't. I was in my own bedroom, writing a Transfiguration essay that wasn't due for another week.

Which meant that the screams had to belong to James.

When I realized this, only a split second after I heard the screaming, I immediately leapt to my feet. Something had overcome me - the strangest need to protect him, the realization that if he was hurt, I would completely blame myself, that I  _needed_  him to stay alive and well in order for me to exist.

I opened the door to his bedroom moments later, slightly surprised that it was unlocked. His sheets and blankets were tightly twisted around him. Sweat glued his hair to his forehead. His face was contorted into an anguished grimace, and only seconds after I entered, he was screaming again, and this time I could make out words. My name, and "no," and "Mum!" and "Sirius!" and "LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

"James?" I whispered, and then louder, "James!" He didn't respond, so I walked closer, touched his shoulder. "James, wake up. James, it's only a nightmare. You're fine. I'm fine."

His eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled, "Lily," before grabbing me by the arm and dragging me down next to him. He buried his face in my hair, and I could tell he was crying. Had the dream really been that horrible?

He wrapped his arms around me, very tightly, and I couldn't see his face, but I was hoping it had relaxed, and yes, the dream really had been that horrible from the way he was breathing, quickly, erratically. It took some time, but his breathing slowed, and eventually I could tell he was fast asleep. It was not until I knew, without a doubt, that he was sleeping, that I let myself sink into the smooth darkness I knew awaited me.

It was the best unaided night's sleep I'd had in months.

***

James and I did not know where we stood. We were friends. We maybe even had the potential to be more than friends.

But we didn't talk about it. For the first time, we were content to simply exist together. We did not hold hands. We did not kiss. We did not even hold each other, except for the nights when one of us had nightmares.

Somehow, I never had a single bad dream after I was encased in James's warm arms. We never talked about it, but we both were obviously grateful to each other for those nights. They meant deep sleep for both of us, sleep that ended when the sun came up and left us fully rested and relaxed enough to actually focus in class for the rest of the day.

We were not happy, but we were satisfied. We didn't have everything we wanted, of course, but we had what we needed for the moment.

We didn't talk about what might or might not have been a budding relationship. We didn't talk much at all. We certainly never said anything those nightmare nights.

And life went on. News of new murders, raids, Muggle massacres, appeared in the _Prophet_  daily. But life went on, as life tends to do.

Everyone had nightmares, but we dealt with them. Not because we wanted to. Because we had to.

We studied harder than ever. The idea was that the more we studied, the better prepared we would be for real life, as in, life outside of Hogwarts. Life with Voldemort on the loose and no Dumbledore to protect us.

The idea scared us and enthralled us. Most of us were going to become Aurors or Curse Breakers or Healers. We all (minus a few of the Slytherins) wanted to fight Voldemort. Many of us had no sense of self-preservation. We were crazy with the need to save the world. We needed to fight back. We couldn't let him win.

The Order of the Phoenix grew by a member or two every now and then. Sometimes the new members were people we knew. More often, they were people Dumbledore had met and decided to bring along. Sometimes my friends and I were assigned new jobs. James was sent out of Hogwarts to spy on a Death Eater meeting one weekend. He came back and had nightmares of it every night for a week, and even when I curled up next to him he could barely sleep an hour without it being interrupted by a bloody dream.

James's nightmares scared me. I held him to me and whispered that everything would be okay, even if I didn't really believe it, not really. Eventually he would calm down and sink into restless sleep, arms clenched around me so tightly I couldn't move. I didn't mind, though. I was glad that I could help him. It made me feel like less of a horrible person for all the pain I had put him through.

When he woke up in the morning, he would always thank me. He'd say, "Sorry. And thank you." And then he would get up to get dressed, and I would leave and do the same. And that was the only time we'd ever talk about it.

It was much the same when I had nightmares. He would soothe me into sleep, and I would wake up in the morning and say, "Thank you. Sorry for waking you." And I would get up to get ready, and he would leave.

It was strange, this kind of wordless agreement we had reached, but I liked it, at least a little bit. It meant I could sleep in the warmth of his arms and not have to deal with the issue of our relationship. It was by no means a solution, but at least everything that was going on around us put our problems on hold, at least for a little bit.

***

"Put that thing out," I said shortly. "You're going to get lung cancer."

Marly was smoking a cigarette in the Head's Common Room. She said, "It's just one cigarette, Lily, no big deal."

But one cigarette became two, then five, then ten, and I said, "Seriously, that's a pack and it's been two days. Each of those takes a year off your life, you know."

"They'll find a cure by the time I'm old enough to care. Besides, it takes the edge off things and I don't have to get drunk," Marly replied.

"They make you smell bad."

"It's called perfume," she retorted.

"What does Sirius think about this?" I asked.

"He's the one who got me started, actually. I took a few drags of his the other day and it was relaxing enough that I wanted my own. Guess how you say "cigarette" in Dutch?"

"Stop trying to distract me. You're going to give me secondhand smoke."

"It won't be worse than whatever I'm contracting, right? We can get sick together." Marly laughed.

"This isn't funny! You really shouldn't smoke those." But I could already see there was no point to this argument. She was practically already addicted.

"I'll smoke them less, alright?" Marly said. "Just for you."

I snorted. "Thanks. At least I won't have a chimney sitting next to me anymore."

"I'm too pretty to be a chimney."

"You're a chimney on a Victorian mansion, complete with diamond-encrusted gargoyles," I told her.

"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Marly said, and grinned. "Absolutely none at all."

Before I could reply, Peter and Remus walked in. "Marly, you're missing Quidditch practice," Remus informed her, and she immediately leapt up.

"Damnit, I forgot," she muttered as she fastened her cloak and shoved her feet into boots. "See you later, Lily!"

"So what was that distraction for?" I asked, when only Peter, Remus, and I were left in the room.

Remus grinned. "You've always been perceptive." Then he sighed. "This is about James."

"Again? Does he know you two and Sirius keep nosing into his love life?"

"Or lack thereof," Peter said, and crossed his arms. "Lily, you need to talk him."

"I talk to him all the time," I replied, even though I knew that wasn't at all what they had meant.

"He's confused," Remus said quietly. "He doesn't know what to think of you. He doesn't know if you love him or if you feel bad for him or what. He needs to know."

"He knows perfectly well how I feel about him!" I said indignantly, even though I knew that was a blatant lie.

"He doesn't know anything, and you know that," Peter said shortly. "Talk to him. Please."

"About what? Whether I feel bad for him or not? Of course I feel bad for him! His parents just died! He's scared and depressed and - "

"Are you talking about me?"

James. His voice was low and angry. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Thanks for informing me. I was under the impression we were friends, but now I think I realize you only ever talked to me out of pity. Thank you for your concern, but I can deal with my life just fine without you pretending to care."

"James - " I stood up, ready to grab him if I need to. I didn't want him to leave thinking that.

But he turned away from me, his face hard. "I don't need your pity, Lily. And I'll thank _you two_  to stay out of my business!"

"James, wait!" Peter cried, jumping up and running after James as he slammed the door of the common room shut.

"Damnit, I thought Quidditch would have lasted longer," Remus muttered. "I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't think he'd come back so soon." He paused and looked at me, frowning. "Now tell me.  _Do_  you only feel bad for him?"

I sighed. "Of course not. But he doesn't know that, obviously."

"You should tell him."

"Maybe it's better like this."

"It's not."

"You can't see the future," I protested.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You and James have to be the two biggest idiots I have ever met."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Then prove it."

I glared at him. Remus kind of grinned, and then said, "Listen, talk to him. Please?"

I didn't say anything. He shrugged. "I've done my best. Good night, Lily."

Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. I was afraid of having nightmares, but more than that, I was afraid of James not coming to me if I did. I didn't think I could deal with that. I couldn't go back to night-long nightmares after I had found something like a cure.

***

Professor Saggese's entire family was murdered at once. She broke down in the middle of class, her brown eyes filling with tears and her voice choking up halfway through a sentence about repelling the Cruciatus Curse.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and sat down in her seat, burying her head in her arms.

Marly immediately got out of her seat and attempted to comfort her. Many of us had been through the exact same thing, only with different names. We were all scared and broken and hurt by this war. We all wanted to help each other.

Marly told Saggese, "It'll be okay. Fight for them. It'll be okay."

Saggese didn't reply, but she stood up again and said, "Write me a roll of parchment on the Unforgivable Curses. Due next class."

She left the room, and we all heard a sob before the door closed behind her.

None of us spoke as we began our essays, the easiest she had ever assigned us.

Alice slipped her hand around mine and laid her head on my shoulder. "She doesn't deserve this."

I didn't say,  _None of us do,_  but I thought it as I squeezed Alice's hand and stared at my blank parchment, blinking back hot tears.

***

My first out of school mission was set to be the first weekend of March. Dumbledore was sending Alice, Marly, Frank and me out to Hogsmeade to track down a Death Eater named Karkaroff. In the meantime, Dorcas, Emmeline, and Remus were keeping watch on Lucius Malfoy's house, which Moody said was probably a kind of headquarters for Death Eaters when they were in that part of England.

Naturally, I was frightened. I was also excited and full of a kind of anger that I hadn't known I could feel. I wanted to punish those who had killed my parents, and this was going to prove the perfect opportunity. We weren't going to kill Karkaroff once we found him, of course, but we were most definitely going to find him, capture him, get him sent to Azkaban where he belonged.

Part of me expected to die. There was no way Karkaroff wouldn't send for help once he realized we were following him, but even if he did, we would find a way to capture him, maybe others with him. If the cost was my life, then so be it. I would give my life to have Death Eaters captured, even if they weren't the ones who had killed my family.

They had killed other families. Other wives and fathers and sisters and sons. They had destroyed other people. They had ruined other lives.

They deserved to be punished. They deserved to be shown justice. They deserved the same kind of pain they had given so many others, but that was not what we would do to them. We wouldn't sink so low as to torture them.

It wouldn't be easy, but we would capture them all, both for justice and to make the world a safer place for those of us who didn't ally ourselves with Lord Voldemort.

And we would win. We would save the world, or at least our little part of it.


	21. Twenty

My classes held no interest for me. For the first time, I felt like school didn't matter. This was so much more important. The real world was the only thing that mattered. In the end, it wouldn't matter whether or not I had flunked Transfiguration; it would matter whether I _could_  Transfigure. And because of my insomnia, I could. I had spent so many nights memorizing and practicing spells that I didn't even need to pay attention anymore.

Unfortunately, my teachers disagreed.

McGonagall took me aside after class one day and said shortly, "I hope you realize you're doing something incredibly stupid by letting your mission completely take over your senses. You have other obligations, Evans, and that includes school."

I said, "Sorry, Professor," and left her classroom. I listened to her and let my body work on autopilot for the rest of the school week. This meant that I did not do nearly as well as I would have had I been devoting myself entirely to school.

McGonagall noticed, but this time she chose not to say anything.

***

The day came both alarmingly quickly and agonizingly slowly.

It seemed like, while my heart was racing, my body would not go any faster than usual. In fact, it seemed to be moving  _slower_.

Alice, Frank, Marly and I left the safety of Hogwarts at noon under one of Moody's Invisibility Cloaks. It was not a Hogsmeade weekend, and this in addition to the chaos that was going on in the real world must have been the reason that the village was deserted.

We first spotted Karkaroff in a sketchy shop on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. He was talking to the shopkeeper in a low voice. Karkaroff seemed to get angrier and angrier, eventually taking out his wand and pointing it at the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper raised his own wand defiantly, keeping it raised until there was a flash of red light and his face contorted in pain. Karkaroff glanced around once, and, not seeing that anyone was around, killed the shopkeeper.

It shocked me to see someone just nonchalantly kill somebody. It shocked me to have somebody die in front of me. Again. I felt slightly guilty. As if I should have done something to stop it.

Alice was clutching my hand, and when the shopkeeper fell she tightened her hold for an instant. I knew she was resisting the scream that was undoubtedly climbing up her throat.

Karkaroff was bustling around behind a shelf. He emerged eventually, shoving something into his pocket.

We tensed as he neared the door, and as he opened it we flung the cloak off and leapt toward him.

We were a split second too early. He spotted us and pressed his index finger immediately to his forearm.

There were half a dozen cracks around us, and suddenly the air was filled with swishing black cloaks and foreboding white masks.

This time, Alice screamed, and she wasn't the only one.

Frank acted quickly, deflecting a curse that was aimed at Marly and sending a Patronus, most likely a message, toward Hogwarts.

As a curse hit Frank's shoulder and he fell, it suddenly hit me that I was probably going to die.

Frank stood up, and my senses seemed to return. I realized that I had been screaming out spells without even realizing it. Two Death Eaters were on the ground, probably Stunned. One was advancing toward me. He took off his mask - Lucius Malfoy.

"Hello, Mudblood. The Dark Lord says not to kill you. He says he wants us to capture you. Says he wants you alive." He leered at me. "Never said we can't have a bit of fun while we're at it."

" _Stupefy!_ " I screamed, but he deflected it.

" _Crucio!_ "

I screamed again, but this time it wasn't to shout out a spell. It was just a scream, the kind of scream that meant I was feeling unbearable pain, and then -

It stopped.

I froze, looked up, and - "James? What are you doing here?"

He reached out and took hold of my hand before I realized I was on the ground. "James? How - "

"Frank's message," he replied. " _Impedimenta!_ "

A Death Eater that had been advancing toward us fell; his mask slid off, revealing the pale face of a familiar looking boy.

"Nott?" I gasped. Screptum Nott - a sixth year at Hogwarts. And he found  _this_  a better way to pass his weekends than school? No wonder he'd quit the Quidditch team. "He's only sixteen!" I felt tears sting at my eyes, and shook them out. This was no time to feel bad for Death Eaters.

James, I soon noticed, was not the only Order member who had come. I saw Moody, Sirius, and Peter, their wands out, sending spells at Death Eaters. It seemed to take little effort. I kept thinking,  _Peter, little Peter, he can hardly even Stun!_  It did nothing to calm my nerves. Moody looked angry, but Sirius was grinning, as if this were all a game to him.

"Nice one, James!" he shouted as James dangled someone in a Death Eater mask by the ankle. His mask fell off, too, but this time I didn't recognize him. Perhaps that was for the better.

At that moment, we had them outnumbered.

Moody, seeming to think that we had to be safe now that there were so many of us and so few of them still standing, swung an arm around Karkaroff's throat and Stunned him.

"I'll be back after I take this one to Azkaban!" he told us, and Disapparated.

We fought. We were going to be alright. I felt at least a little bit safe. We fought, and another Death Eater went down. There were bodies all around us, but none of them were dead, and none of them were ours.

Then Marly was hit by a curse. It was not a Stunning Spell.

At first I thought she was dead, but when Sirius (sweat practically flying off his face, eyes wide with fear and fury) checked her pulse, he called out, "She's alive, she's gonna be alright, Pomfrey'll fix her!" I could sense the words he was holding back - " _I hope._ " He didn't want for it to only be a hope that Marly would survive. He wanted it to be definite. The problem with that was that nothing was definite anymore. Everything was constantly changing, and it seemed like it was changing for the worse of late, especially during this particular fight.

Sirius grabbed Marly, shouted to us, "Sorry!" and Disapparated.

There were more Death Eaters now - they seemed to just keep multiplying. We had about eight down, but there were six surrounding us and only five of us remaining. We no longer outnumbered them. There was a barrage of curses coming our way, and we were barely able to stop them from seriously injuring us. One hit me - my head hurt suddenly, worse than ever before. When I touched it gingerly, my fingers came back sticky and dark with blood.

"Lily, leave!" James hissed, and I jumped, only to realize that he was right beside me.

"I can't leave!" I hissed back. "What about you and Frank and Alice and Peter?"

"I don't care, just go!"

I didn't go. James looked angry, but it didn't matter. I wasn't going to let him get killed while I watched safely from behind the gates of Hogwarts. I  _couldn't_  let him get killed while I watched safely from behind the gates of Hogwarts.

But before James could argue with me anymore, there was another crack, and this time I was really and truly scared. James's hand tightened around mine before I even noticed that it was there.

"Evans, Potter, Longbottom, Lawrence, we meet again, I see." Lord Voldemort's voice was a hiss and it chilled me to the bone. "You remember my proposal? It still stands, should you have changed your minds."

"You mean the one where we can fight for you and kill our friends in exchange for temporary safety?" James snarled. "Yeah, right."

"Impertinence will get you no where, boy.  _Crucio!_ "

"James!" It took me a moment to realize that the anguished scream was coming, not from James, but from me. "Leave him alone!"

"Would you rather I just kill him, Mudblood?" Voldemort's face was angry, but his voice was as cold and as high pitched as ever.

"No!"

"Then I'd advise you to hold your tongue."

Before I could even close my mouth, however, the pain was upon me. I felt as if every bone in my body was on fire, as if I was being attacked and sliced up and chopped up and destroyed. It was enough for me to beg for death.

But there was a hand around mine, and it was cool and calming. I clung to my sanity and to my life through that hand, and screamed until my throat was raw, but the pain didn't stop.

James whispered, "Dumbledore's here, everything's gonna be alright."

My other hand was suddenly also encased in warm fingers. Alice whispered in my other ear, "We're leaving."

Voldemort snarled, "Dumbledore!"

But he didn't lift the spell.

I felt as if I were in Hell, but instead of just fire there were knives and swords and guns and arrows and -

The pain stopped, and I felt the familiar suffocation of Apparation before everything disappeared into black.

***

"What the hell just happened?" I said, only my voice came out a rasping whisper.

Frank heard me anyway. "Lily, thank God you're alright."

"Lily?" Both James and Alice immediately looked away from the roaring fire in the Shrieking Shack.

"You're awake!" Alice looked more relieved than I had ever seen her. "We thought you were dead or - or d-dying, or - "

"No, I think I'm okay." I groaned as I tried to get up. "I ache all over, though."

"That's because you were Crucio'd until you passed out," Frank said, smiling, warmly but unsteadily.

James whispered, "I thought you were going to die." He looked like he was going to cry.

"I'm not going to die, James."

He stood up and was instantly at my side, holding my hand. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need a drink or something?" he asked frantically, one hand on my forehead as if he were checking for a fever.

"Where would you even get a drink from?" I asked. "Why are we here, anyway?"

"Dumbledore's orders. He said not to leave until he got here." Frank's voice was, as always, both calm and calming. It wasn't that annoyingly calm type of voice that had potential to make somebody push him over a bridge.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We Disapparated. You were still mostly awake for that, right?" James asked worriedly. "You remember the fight, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," I said. "We - something about Dumbledore? Right? He came - is he alright?"

"As far as we know. He told us to wait here until he dealt with Voldemort and the Minister," Alice said, and then snorted. "Because they both seem to take equal amounts of effort, when you're Dumbledore, at least."

I sort of laughed and said, "There's no need for effort when you're Dumbledore." And then, "How's Marly?"

"We don't know. We don't know anything else." Frank was staring at the fire. "I feel horrible."

"This isn't your fault!" James cried.

"I could've told you to jump at Karkaroff later. None of this would've happened if I had. We could've Stunned him from the shadows or something."

"It's not only your fault, Frank," Alice said softly. "We were all responsible. We all had equal opportunity to come up with an idea to catch him, but we didn't. You did the right thing by getting help."

"If Marly dies - " Frank started.

"She won't," James promised, and instead of looking at him I turned my face into the moth-eaten couch. That was when I remembered something.

"We can't be in here!" I cried. "This place is haunted!"

Alice jumped a little at that. "I completely forgot about that!"

"No, it's not," James said shortly. "I personally know the so-called ghost that's here once a month, and he's not a ghost."

I paused. "Wait a moment. Are you a werewolf?"

James snorted. "Of course not. You'd know if I was."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Well, I'm not. Stop asking me about this, please."

It wasn't an order, it was a request, and something strangely like pleading in his eyes made me stop.

***

Dumbledore Apparated into the Shrieking Shack only about twenty minutes after I came to (I was later informed this was nearly an hour after we had all arrived there). He looked more tired than I had ever seen him.

"The Minister has agreed that you are all to be left alone," he informed us. "That means the  _Daily Prophet_  won't be trying to interview you, at least not while you're at school." He sighed. "Lord Voldemort Disapparated shortly after my arrival. The only reason I've been so delayed is the condition of Miss McKinnon."

I sat up straighter, as if that would help me hear better, as if it would change the news I so dreaded.

"She is in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing for now. We have brought in two Healers from St. Mungo's after Madam Pomfrey decided her condition was too unstable for her to travel any more. They say she will be making a full recovery. And don't worry, Mr. Potter, we had Professor Slughorn test them using Veritaserum to make sure they were not under any influence from Lord Voldemort."

James nodded. I breathed; it felt like I hadn't been able to since Marly had been cursed.

"What about Remus?" James asked. "And Dorcas and Emmeline?"

"They have returned," Dumbledore said. "They arrived only about a quarter hour before I left the castle. I'm afraid they did not learn anything we didn't already know except that Lucius Malfoy keeps white peacocks in front of his house and that he abuses his house elf."

"Why would anyone want to abuse a house elf?" Alice snarled. "I bet that elf didn't do anything at all to harm Malfoy. I bet it was a second late in bringing him his mead or something equally disgusting."

"Yeah, well, we already knew Malfoy was an arsehole," Frank said, sliding his arm around her and kissing her head. I looked away; it seemed like a private moment, and it was painfully beautiful.

"Were they hurt?" I asked instead of watching them.

"Miss Vance suffered a concussion. A Death Eater caught her - they were only Disillusioned, and I'm afraid she stuck out a bit. The Cruciatus Curse was performed on her, but Miss Meadowes acted quickly to Stun the Death Eater who was casting the spell. To the best of my knowledge, this concussion is not a particularly bad one. She will probably spend the night in the Hospital Wing; you know how vigilant Madam Pomfrey is about the health of her patients." Dumbledore winked at me, but I couldn't find it within me to wink back.

James asked, "So Remus and Dorcas are alright?"

"Miss Meadowes has a few bruises and was hit by a jinx, but it was nothing major. She says the worst happened to Miss Vance. Mr. Lupin only has a scratch or two, and those were sustained when he threw both Miss Vance and Miss Meadowes against the ground, saving them from another Cruciatus Curse. That was how the girls received their injuries."

I sighed with relief. It was good to know that all my friends were now safe.

"We are now going to leave through the tunnel. I believe you know of it, Mr. Potter."

James nodded again. The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched upward in the tiniest of smiles.

Dumbledore led us through a tunnel. It was difficult for me to walk on my achey legs. James was half-carrying me. It did not make for a very easy trip; the tunnel was not very wide. When it turned out that the tunnel was blocked by a lethal-looking tree, I started to turn back, because this was one tree I did not want to come in contact with, but James held tightly to my arm.

"The Whomping Willow, Miss Evans, was planted here the summer before your first year at Hogwarts." He poked a knot on the tree with a stick, and it froze. "We had to have a way to stop it, lest someone need to get in or out of the Shack."

We carefully climbed over the roots of the tree until we were on Hogwarts grounds only a few meters away from the school. It was not until we were inside, however, that I felt really and truly safe.

***

The Healers at St. Mungo's did not let us see Marly. We argued and fought and screamed. Still, all they said was, "Only family is allowed to see her in her present condition."

"Her family's all dead!" Sirius shouted. "We  _are_  her family!"

"I'm sorry, sir. You are disturbing the other patients. I must ask you all to leave the hospital wing."

"Stop being such an arse and let me in!"

"Excuse me, sir," I said timidly. "But I'm certain Marly would like to have us there when she wakes up."

"Only family," the Healer repeated.

"Well, she and Sirius are engaged," James said quickly. "Doesn't that make him family?"

"Well - yes, I suppose it does," the Healer said, looking vaguely surprised. "Very well. Sirius may enter, but only Sirius."

Sirius glanced gratefully over at James, who shrugged and grinned.

"That was friendly of you," I said.

James said, "Yeah, I'm a friendly bloke." He reached for my arm, but instead of waiting, scooped me into his arms. "We're going to the Common Room, alright? And I don't feel like dragging you, it'd take too long."

"You're an arse," I said shortly. "Put me down."

"You can't walk."

He had a point. I let him carry me to the Head's Common Room, where he promptly dropped me on a couch and seated himself rather far away.

Watching him, it occurred to me that James was a very beautiful man.

After that, it occurred to me that I was probably in love with him.

This caused me to start crying, for reasons unknown to me. Perhaps I was simply overcome with too many emotions and the love thing had simply been too much, or perhaps it was just that time of the month. The reason hardly mattered, however, because I started crying.

Predictably, James came over to me and wrapped his arms around me. "It's alright, Marly'll be okay."

I could no longer resist. I kissed him.

James kissed me back, for a moment, and it was the type of kiss that I wished would last forever.

But then he pulled away, looked away. Opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, said, "No."

I opened my own mouth. I wanted to argue, I wanted to fight, but I didn't. Instead I forced myself to turn over and face the soft back of the couch. I buried my face in it and tried to stop crying.

"Lily. Don't do that."

I didn't reply.

"Lily, you're making me feel bad."

I still didn't say anything.

"Will you at least let me explain?"

"Explain what? That I'm too late? That you fell out of love with me? I knew this would happen!" I turned back to face him, forced myself into a seated position. "Don't you see? This is why I always said no! I knew you'd fall out of love with me eventually, and - this - you were the type of boy I would have definitely fallen in love with. I wouldn't want for that to end!"

"Lily, let me explain," James said quietly, and he stood, walked over to me. "I didn't fall out of love with you. It's the opposite. I'm more in love with you than I've ever been before."

"So why can't I kiss you!?"

"Because you're going to just kiss me and then say you bloody  _can't_  just like you always do! And I can't take that anymore! I've been through too much and I can't handle that kind of abuse anymore! My emotions might be completely screwed up by the amount of death and injury and hatred I've seen over the past year, but they can still tell me that what you're doing is hurting me, and I can't be hurt anymore!"

I opened my mouth again. Closed it. I had never seen James this emotionally vulnerable, not about me, anyway. He looked like he was ready to cry.

I said, "I'm sorry."

"You know what? I would tell you it's not your fault, except that this time it is. Maybe you're emotionally screwed up too, but that's not an excuse to hurt me the way you have. I don't want random kissing after we've been through a trauma or something. I want a solid relationship." James's eyes closed, and he sighed, but it didn't look tranquil. It looked angry. "I wish you could love me, but if you can't, then I don't want to even try."

"James, I could love you if I tried."

"Then why don't you try!?" he cried, and then shook his head. "No, never mind. I give up. I'm not sure I even want to be your friend, to be completely honest."

I could not believe it. James could not give up. He was the one constant in my life, and if he gave up, I would have nothing that simply remained the same, always. My life would be a tumultuous downward spiral into depression or death or both, and I could not let that happen.

It occurred to me, suddenly, that James was worth a lot more to me than even he could fathom. And maybe, just maybe, I was worth that much to him. I wondered, in the back of my mind, if he was willing to fight to make it work. To make  _us_  work. I knew it wouldn't be easy. We hadn't gotten along at all prior to this year, and even now half the time it was only forced politeness for the sake of our positions and school.

He wanted a relationship, not a hookup. I had always believed the opposite of him - it was one of my reasons not to date him. That was one thing I could now cross off the imaginary list.

I had not wanted to date him because of his immaturity, but he was infinitely more mature now. I had not wanted to date him because he was evil to the Slytherins, but that tied in with his maturity. The occasional prank never hurt anybody. I had not wanted to date him because he was too involved in the war. I hadn't wanted to get attached only to have him murdered. The problem with that logic was that I was now also extremely involved, and I was also extremely attached.

In other words, there were no legitimate reasons for me not to date him.

There were, however, plenty of reasons on the other side. James was clever, he was funny, he was now quite mature, he seemed devoted to me, he would have died to protect me, he was kind and loyal, he was brave and noble.

I remembered every night that we had spent together, not having sex, just sleeping, breathing deeply, not having nightmares. He had never once tried to take advantage of those situations. I remembered the night after my father had died. I remembered how kind he had been, holding me when I needed to be held and never asking for anything in return. That was all I'd really wanted. Someone to hold me. Someone to love me.

James loved me. Or at least, he could.

And I could love him.

The words spilled out of my mouth before I could hold them back: "James, will you go out with me?"

* * *

 **A/N:** This is probably the most important chapter thus far, and definitely felt it when I was writing it. I think at this point we've reached at least a 15 year old me, but there are bits of this chapter that had been written since before I wrote the prologue.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review.


	22. Twenty One: James's Perspective

If there had been one thing I'd hoped for since I'd hit puberty, it was this. Not even the darkness of the war could dim the attraction I'd always felt toward Lily Evans.

It was easy, therefore, to make my decision. I didn't even have to think about it, really.

"Yes."

That wasn't exactly how it came out, though. It was more of a strangled sound, almost like a cat trying to talk through a hairball.

Lily laughed nervously. "Was that a yes?"

I nodded, since obviously I couldn't trust myself to speak.

Lily said, "Wow."

I nodded in agreement. "Wow."

And then I did something I'd wanted to do for months. Years, even.

I kissed my girlfriend, and my girlfriend was Lily Evans.

It wasn't the happiest moment of my life, but it was most certainly in the top ten.

***

Our first date was not the cliche tea in Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade. Since Hogsmeade was now off limits, Lily and I spent a warm afternoon in the Room of Requirement.

It was one of the most awkward afternoons of my life.

We did not talk for the first twenty minutes. Instead, we sat at a table set for two and stared at each other. Lily blushed and looked down once or twice. Neither of us had any idea what to say.

"Er," I said. "You look nice."

"Thanks."

"Good about Marly, eh?"

"Yeah, Sirius seems happy to have her back."

"She seems back to her old self again, too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," I echoed.

Lily looked at me for a moment, and then her mouth opened and, of all things to do, Lily _laughed._

I said, "Why are you laughing?"

"Since when can we not find anything to talk about?" she asked, still giggling. "It's not like we don't know each other. This should be less like a first date."

"Right," I said. "Right." So I leaned forward and, because she was my girlfriend and I could, but also because she was beautiful and I maybe probably loved her, I kissed her.

I pulled away, and she was smiling, really smiling, for the first time in  _ages_. And then, because we required it, a couch appeared, and I said, "More comfortable than kissing over the table, don't you think?"

***

"But it's freezing cold!" Peter whined.

"He's right," I said, shrugging. "It's March. We can't go diving."

"But that's my point! The lake's just melted, the squid'll still be sluggish so we won't get eaten - it's perfect!" Sirius's voice was earnest and eager and I couldn't deny him a moment of happiness, not when he'd had precious few for the past year. It wasn't like I'd been much fun lately.

"Fine," I said finally, and Remus rolled his eyes. He'd expected me to cave, like I always did, because it wasn't like I could deny Sirius very much. "But I'm bringing Lily."

It took a few minutes to convince her to come with me. She was resistant to the idea of jumping from a high tree branch into a freezing cold lake that was populated by mermaids and squids. I couldn't really blame her, but I could charm her into coming, and that I did.

She was holding my hand as we walked to the lake, and it was difficult to ignore the downright happy feeling in my stomach as I led her to the thick-limbed tree we always jumped off.

Sirius, typically, went first. He plunged into the water and soaked us all in ice cold droplets before shouting, "Your turn, Prongs!"

I shrugged. "Lily, come in right after me, alright? Remus'll help you get into the tree, and I'll be waiting down there to catch you."

Lily nodded, looking petrified, and then said, "Wait, you were expecting me to dive?"

I laughed and climbed the tree.

The plunge into freezing water left me feeling numb inside and out, and when I shot back up to the surface the only thing that warmed me up again was the expression on Lily's face as she crawled timidly forward on the branch.

"Jump!" Sirius shouted. "Come on, you won't get hurt!"

Lily shook her head, and I wanted to laugh, but she was my girlfriend now so I didn't. Instead I said, "Lily, I'll catch you, I promise."

"I don't want any of you anywhere near me when I land!" Lily cried, and this time I had to duck back down under water to stop myself from laughing. She didn't look fooled, though, because the look she gave me when I resurfaced was scathing.

"Evans, you're not going to die," Sirius said impatiently. "Just jump!"

"Is this even allowed?" Lily cried. "I should report all of you right now. I really should."

"You'd have to report yourself," I reminded her. "You're up in that tree, anyway. And how else to get down but jump?"

"Climb?" she suggested, looking doubtfully at the branches she'd just gotten up. "I don't know."

Remus, always the gentleman, said, "Do you want me to go first? Just watch - you won't get hurt, and if you do I'm sure James will have a word with the water."

His lips twitched, but that was nothing compared to the laughter coming from Sirius. "Evans, come on, are you really going to let Remus go before you?"

Lily didn't respond. I couldn't know from this distance, but I was sure she was shaking.

"It's too cold to be here," she said. "This was  _such_  a stupid idea."

"You're going to wake up the squid," Sirius said. I swam over and elbowed him.

"S-squid?" Lily said. "I completely forgot about the squid!"

"Are you or aren't you a Gryffindor?" Sirius asked. "Since when do you get scared?"

"When it's possible that I die for no real reason, then I get pretty damn scared!" Lily shouted at him. I tackled him into the water and gave him a sound knee to the stomach.

"I'll go ahead, Lily, and you can see that it's not painful at all. It's not even dangerous, really," Remus suggested. He climbed to the branch above Lily's head and jumped in easily. He resurfaced, dripping with water, but grinning. "See? Not hard at all!"

Lily still looked doubtful, and Peter stopped waiting and jumped in. He bobbed up to the surface and smiled at her. "Don't worry. Just jump. If you think about it too much, you'll get so scared you won't jump."

Lily looked as though she were already past that point, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she closed her eyes and crawled forward on the branch and stood up awkwardly, one foot wobbling in front of the other. She sort of bent forward and, instead of jumping, fell off the branch into the deep waters below her.


	23. Twenty Two

There was a terrible moment when I couldn't breathe that I wondered if I was dead. Then it struck me that, had I been dead, I would not have been able to wonder whether or not I was dead.  _Then_  it struck me that I did not know that for sure, considering I had never been dead.

And then I realized that I was shooting rapidly upward and to the surface and that this entire argument I was having with myself was completely pointless. Before I could breathe again, James dived under and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips against mine. We both reached the surface and breathed, not being dragged down even though we were both being dragged down by heavy clothing.

"See?" James said. "That wasn't hard!"

"She didn't even jump!" Sirius said incredulously. "She  _fell_!"

"I did not!" I protested, even though I  _had_  lost my balance on the branch. "I jumped!"

Remus was roaring with laughter, which was new because he never laughed at other people. I supposed this was just a side he was letting me see now that I was dating his best friend.

"If only Marly had been here to see that," Sirius snorted. "Speaking of which, where is she?"

"Asleep? I hope you realize it's not even ten o' clock yet, and it's a  _Saturday._ "

James laughed and murmured in my ear, "Do you want me to stay down here with you?"

"No, you don't have to," I said softly. "Go have fun. I should probably go back inside anyway. I have some work to do."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I - yeah." I wasn't, really. But I felt that he had been abandoning his friends ever since we had started dating, and I really wanted him to spend some time with them. I had also not had a legitimate conversation with any of my friends for the past two weeks, and I really missed them.

James smiled. "Okay," he said. "Alright." He paused. "You looked really scared on that branch, but you didn't have to be."

"Oh?"

"No. I would've caught you. I wouldn't have let you get hurt."

He looked dead serious when he said it, even though when he'd said it before I'd thought he was half-joking.

I said, "Thank you," and let him kiss me before swimming back to land.

***

We were all sitting in Transfiguration, waiting patiently for McGonagall, who had never once been late in all seven years of being our teacher, when Marly decided it would be quite alright to whip out a package of cigarettes and take a long drag of one, then offer the pack to Sirius, who shook his head.

"I'm good," he said. "I'm trying to quit."

Marly snorted. "Right. And I'm Merlin's ex-wife."

Sirius frowned. "No, really. Or, well, I'm trying to smoke less. Because I was going at a pack or so a day and that's not healthy."

"Smoking at all isn't healthy," I said.

Marly rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up," she said.

I said, "You know it's true," but Marly exhaled in my face, leaving me coughing and wondering when she had turned into such a bitch.

"She's right," James said calmly from behind us. "It's not healthy. Also, secondhand smoke kills, too."

Marly moved her chair a little further away from me and exhaled in the opposite direction, giving a Hufflepuff a lungful of her smoke. He coughed and snarled, "I'm an asthmatic!"

"Healers haven't cured you yet?" she asked, putting out her cigarette on the desk and looking extremely annoyed. "Sorry."

"No, they haven't. It's not curable, even in the wizarding world." He was obviously quite pissed off with her, and he turned to face whoever was sitting next to him.

McGonagall walked in a moment later, and sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring.

"Mr. Black? Put out your cigarette, please."

Sirius said, "I love how you automatically assume it's me who's smoking."

"Who is it, then, if not you?"

"I didn't say it wasn't me. I just said I love how you automatically assume it's me."

"So it was you who was smoking?"

"Of course not," Sirius said.

"It was  _her_ ," the pissed off Hufflepuff said, pointing at Marly.

McGonagall frowned. "McKinnon,  _why_  are you smoking?"

"It helps. And legally I can, so I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Let me revise that question, then: why are you smoking  _in my classroom_?" McGonagall looked like she was going to shoot some kind of lethal spell at Marly, who did not look at all perturbed. She didn't answer McGonagall, but when the teacher gave up, sighed, and docked twenty points from Gryffindor, Marly flipped her middle finger at the Hufflepuff and glared at her desk.

I said, "You know you deserved that."

Marly didn't reply, but I could tell she was upset. I just didn't know  _why_  she was smoking so heavily lately - it wasn't really  _necessary_  or anything.

"Don't ignore me," I said. "Marly, you know smoking is bad for you."

Marly shot me a venomous glare, and McGonagall said, "Ms. Evans, please stop that muttering," without turning around.

***

James and I were lying side by side. We weren't touching, but we were facing each other, and his eyes were closed but he wasn't asleep. Mine were wide open and I was watching him.

He whispered, "I want to never be anywhere without you, ever." And his hand reached for mine, slid around it and he said, "I don't think I could survive."

I didn't think I could either, but I didn't have the opportunity to tell him because his lips had pressed against mine and neither of us could speak anymore.

He brought his lips away from mine and said softly, "I want this to be perfect. I want us to be perfect."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sliding my hand around his.

"I want us to start like we never really did. Introductions and cute cuddling and kissing." He said, "Hi. I'm James Potter."

I laughed softly and said, "I'm Lily Evans. Glad to meet you." He shook the hand that was already holding mine.

I said, "Can we do the cute cuddling part now?"

"I believe that was next on my list," James replied, and he pulled me to him, pressing his mouth to the top of my head. "I miss you."

"You haven't been away from me."

"I know."

I lifted my head a little higher and kissed him. "I miss you, too."

***

Marly, despite warnings from all our teachers and several of our friends, did not quit smoking.

"This is stupid," I said to her. "Just don't smoke anymore, honestly, you've been sick."

"Not because of smoking," she said stubbornly. "Besides, it takes the edge off, and it's better than alcohol. At least this way I won't get preggers or something."

"I'd rather be preggers than dead," I said grimly. "Dunno if you feel the same, but if you change your mind, feel free to tell me so I can inform you that I  _told you so_."

"Stop being such a bitch," Marly muttered, and exhaled in my face, putting out her cigarette on an ash tray she had conjured moments before. "I have homework."

Needless to say, our friendship was slightly strained of late.

***

"I'm sort of cold," I mumbled, brushing some hair out of my face. "And we're breaking a _lot_  of rules, aren't we?"

This seemed like an occupational hazard of being James's girlfriend. It was something I should've expected, yet it was surprising when we snuck around the school or made out during our patrols. It added an edge to our relationship; I almost liked the risk of getting caught.

"Well, yes," James admitted, and wrapped an arm around me. "But I've got to show you something  _amazing_."

We were under his Invisibility Cloak and walking swiftly across the grounds to the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack. When we entered it, James immediately shed the cloak, dropping it on a torn up couch, and opened the door to one of the closets. He rummaged about for a bit, and then said, "Here we go!"

He extracted a motorbike - what the motorbike was doing in a  _closet_  in the  _Shrieking Shack_  practically on Hogwarts grounds was beyond me - it wasn't as if it could possibly _work_  here - , but I didn't ask until we were outside, in the crisp Hogsmeade air.

"James!" I cried. "This is so  _dangerous_ , we're breaking somewhere around half of the school rules, and  _where in the hell did you get that bike_?"

"It's Sirius's," he replied, messing about with the controls. "I'm not quite sure how to use it, entirely, and I have absolutely no idea how he got it, but it's amazing, we ride on it all the time."

"It's a motorbike! How does it even  _work_  here?"

"That's where you're wrong," James said, and grinned, tugging me gently closer. "Well, kind of. Here, get on behind me."

"What are we doing?" I asked, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding. "And how dangerous is it?"

"We're going to fly," he said, and grinned again. "And. Well, it might be a  _little_  dangerous, but it's not as if you've never been in danger before. Anyway, I wouldn't let you fall. Wrap your arms around my waist."

Not knowing what else I could do now that I was on top of the bike anyway, I did as he asked. I had never really liked flying. My heart was pounding in my throat.

"Hold on tight," he murmured, and suddenly we were in the air.

Of course, I was scared out of my mind.

"James," I hissed. "James, I'm  _scared_!"

"Don't be, you're perfectly safe," he said, taking a hand off the handlebars to squeeze one of mine. I tried not to scream.

"James, we're  _so far_  above the ground!"

"You're not scared of Voldemort, but you're scared of flying?" James asked incredulously. "You're a strange girl, Lily Evans Potter."

That distracted me for a moment. "Since when is my last name Potter?"

"I'm trying out different combinations to see how they sound. Lily Potter sounds better, I think, but if you want to keep the Evans, we can do that, too."

I pictured an ellipsis in my head.

"I rather like the Evans, though, I think I'll still call you by that even when your name's legally Potter," James continued. "I'll say something like, Evans the baby's crying! or Evans, our child needs some milk from that fine breast of yours!"

If I hadn't been so scared of falling, I would have punched him. I told him so, and he laughed.

"I know. That's why I chose to mention it while we were in the air."

"You're an arse," I informed him, and he turned his head slightly to kiss my cheek.

"You love me anyway," he said, shrugging.

I sighed and tried not to vomit - the movement of the bike and the movement of the fluids inside my stomach were  _not_  complimenting each other very nicely.

"I don't like this," I said.

"Why not?"

"I hate flying."

"Why?" He sounded incredulous. "How could  _anyone_  hate flying? Have a look around, Lily. It's beautiful out here."

I did, and bit back a gasp. He was right - it  _was_  beautiful. We were high above Hogsmeade, so that the only sights were the lights still on in homes and inns, highlighting the buildings. I could see treetops, but could make out any detail. I could even see Hogwarts, towers peeking up through a bit of low cloud.

It looked like a fairy tale, and it was stupid to think it, but I felt like a princess.

I said, "Thank you," very softly, and James said, "You're welcome," and then, "Thank _you_."

"For what?" I asked.

"For being here."

It was so cliche, so overdone, but with James it seemed brand new, and I couldn't help but reply, "Only for you."

It was the first night that I wanted to, but didn't, say "I love you."

***

Yet despite it all, despite Marly's cigarette smoking and James's soft kisses, the war went on. Even when it seemed like everything should be ending, like the world was closed in around James and me, like we were the only ones left on the planet, even as we kissed or talked, even then, people died. Our safe haven of Hogwarts was full of talk of death; false laughter rang like gloomy music in the hallways; and the  _Daily Prophet_  brought news of murder, disappearances, and arrests daily.

We all kept our happy exteriors, our shells of humor and love and cheerfulness. They were nothing at all like our insides.

I discovered this one night when Alice and I were both sleepless and lying on the floor near the fireplace one full moon.

Alice told me, "You seem happy."

It took me a moment to reply, because suddenly I felt swallowed by a feeling that was so completely contradictory to her statement that I wanted to laugh.

I said, "Not at all."

"Not even with James?"

"I know they say love conquers all," I told her, "but it doesn't change the fact that both my parents are dead, that my sister refuses to acknowledge my existence, that my boyfriend is depressed because of  _his_  parents, that I'm scared for my life and the lives of my friends, and that we're all threatened by an evil man who hates us because we're different, or because we disagree with him."

"I figured as much," Alice said quietly. "You look - sometimes when you think no one's looking, you look a bit. Down."

"I suppose we all look that way," I said. "I mean, we're all about an inch away from death the second we set foot out of Hogwarts. Don't pretend you don't remember Hogsmeade."

"I remember Hogsmeade," Alice sighed. "It's just. It sort of sucks, doesn't it, that we're forced to be here most of the time? I mean, it's not as if I'm going to be a Ministry worker when I graduate, exactly - I'm planning on being an Auror, which isn't exactly different from what we do now, is it."

"Except that you get paid and ordered around a bit more," I replied. "How's Frank? He seemed pretty devastated after."

"He's okay," she said, and then smiled broadly. "We're getting married. Over the April holiday."

I didn't point out that we'd all already known this. Instead I grinned back. "Am I invited?"

"Maid of honor, Lily," Alice responded, a bit hopefully. "Please?"

"Of course," I said, grinning. "How could I not accept that?"

"Thanks," she said, grinning back.

I yawned. "I'm tired. Maybe I should go to bed."

"Maybe you should drink less coffee."

"I only drink that in the mornings!"

"I'm sure."

We continued to talk for a bit, but my mind wandered to James, awake and somewhere on the grounds that wasn't his bedroom. I wondered vaguely where he was before my mind got the idea that he wasn't in his bedroom because he was in someone else's, some girl who could provide him with more than I ever could.

I immediately banished the thought from my head, then, because it wasn't something I wanted to have to think about.

Alice said, "Listen, Lily," and blushed. "Have you and James had sex yet?"

I blinked. "What? No, that's not. We don't."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Because. Frank and I. We might."

"Might what?" I asked distractedly. I was trying to figure out the difference between two particular runes.

"We might.  _You know_. We might do that. Tonight."

" _Oh_ ," I said, and grinned. "Might you?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, still bright red. "It's. I'm a bit scared, really."

"Don't be," I said. "He wouldn't hurt you."

"That's not what I'm scared of," she said. "I mean, yes, a bit. But mostly I'm just frightened that I won't - that I won't be good at it."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Alice, Frank loves you. I don't think he could ever think that you weren't good at it."

She giggled a little nervously. "Well. Yes. I suppose you're right."

We were both quiet for a little bit, and then she said, her voice very high-pitched, "It's actually time for me to go now."

"Have fun," I said, grinning wickedly.

Alice glared at me and walked very crookedly to the door.

And then I was alone.

This might have been a bad thing, but after so long of being utterly overwhelmed by so many  _people_ , it wasn't. I relished the silence and the freedom to do my homework.

When James got back from wherever he'd been, he looked exhausted.

"Hey," I said. He looked surprised to see me.

"You should be in bed," he said. "Aren't you tired?"

"And caffeinated," I said. "I wanted to wait for you."

"Oh," he said. "Why?"

"I missed you." I wanted to say,  _and I love you_ , but something in his face made me stop.

"Oh." He paused. "I missed you too."

"So," I said. "Are you going to tell me where you were?"

"Busy," he said absently, running a hand through his hair. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing really. Just some homework."

"Oh." He looked at me. "Are you alright?"

I shrugged. "Do you want to do something?"

"What, now?"

"I suppose?"

"Not really," James said. "I'm sort of tired. D'you - d'you mind if I just go to bed?"

Yes. I did mind. I minded quite a lot, as I had waited all this time, but that would be selfish to say, so instead I shook my head. "No, it's fine, you look exhausted anyway."

He looked relieved to hear me say this. "Alright." He kissed my forehead. "Goodnight, love."

"Night," I murmured.

He paused before entering his room and said, "Lily?"

I turned. "Yes?"

"I love you. Don't forget that, alright?"

I nodded. "I won't."

He didn't wait for any more of a reply. He left before I could tell him I loved him back.

I still wanted to know where he'd been, but he didn't seem very eager to tell me. Again, I hoped it wasn't with some other girl, but this was  _James_. He wouldn't. Not to me.

He loved me.

***

Our next date consisted of doing homework in the Gryffindor common room during dinner one night; Sirius had nicked us some food from the kitchens and McGonagall had assigned us an unfortunately long essay on the advantages and disadvantages of self-transfiguration.

We ended up snogging instead of writing the essays, but as the common room was mostly empty, it was alright.

And so it continued; James was my distraction from reality, from school, from Voldemort, from the war.

We were in love, James and I. It was the most beautiful sensation I'd ever felt in my life. James was everything I'd ever needed. He was funny, kind, caring, loving, brave, noble, loyal, and honest. Despite the obvious darkness surrounding us, everything was perfect when James and I were together.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't.

* * *


	24. Twenty Three

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It happened during the writing of a particularly boring essay on Leif Ericsson's influence on magical society nearly three weeks after the full moon.  
  
James had his feet on my bed, his shoes still on, the circles under his eyes faded to a dull grey.  
  
"James, take your feet off my bed, please," I said, and I wasn't quite sure why.   
  
James only looked confused. "What? Why?"  
  
"Because your shoes are filthy," I replied. My voice sounded high-pitched and strung out.  
  
James said, "I can think of something dirtier," and grinned before bending toward me and trying to kiss me. I turned my head away.  
  
"What?" he said, moving away and sighing. "What's wrong?"  
  
"James," I said. "James, where were you the night of the full moon?"  
  
"What? That was ages ago." He looked both confused and wary. I immediately regretted my question, but there was no going back now.  
  
"Where were you? And why were you so tired when you came back?"  
  
“I don’t remember.”  
  
“I don’t believe you.”  
  
James frowned. "What the hell does it matter?"  
  
"Were you with a girl, James?"   
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"I -- of course I wasn't with a girl, Lily."  
  
"Then where were you?"  
  
"I." His voice broke, and he closed his eyes. "I can't tell you that."  
  
"Oh, really?" I said. "And why not?"  
  
"I'd be breaking a promise," he said. "It's really important."  
  
"More important than our relationship?" I asked coolly, and he didn't reply.  
  
"Fine," I said. "Fine, fine, whatever. Whatever. Let's just. Let's get back to work."  
  
I didn't know why my mind had suddenly switched from being annoyed at his dirty shoes to the pocketed jealousy from the last month. I didn't know why i'd gotten so angry.  
  
James said, "Lily, are you okay?" about an hour later, and I nodded and didn't look at him.  
  
When night finally fell, he left my room quietly.  
  
I didn't sleep, and judging by the circles under his eyes the next morning, neither did he.  
  
And that was how it started. In hindsight, maybe it happened more gradually than suddenly. Maybe we were both craving something different, a distraction from the monotony of happiness. Whether we wanted it or not, however, that was exactly what we got.  
  
***  
  
The day after our argument, James sat with Remus, Sirius, and Peter at lunch. I sat with Alice, Marly, Dorcas, and Emmeline.  
  
It was almost entirely silent as we ate; I kept glancing over at James, who was determinedly not looking at me.  
  
"So what's up with you two?" Marly asked, stirring her soup with her spoon but not bringing it to her mouth. "Did you, like, fight or something?"  
  
"No," I replied. "Well, kind of."  
  
Marly frowned. "God, Lily, don't tell me you slept with Calvin after all."  
  
"No," I said. "But, I mean. I did muck up pretty royally."  
  
Alice said, "What did you do?" very warily between bites. She’d eaten three sandwiches already and was now hungrily slurping down soup.  
  
"I essentially accused him of cheating on me," I replied sheepishly.  
  
"Merlin, Lily, of course you did," Emmeline said, and I bristled.  
  
"What do you mean,  _of course I did_?" I snapped. "It wasn't like it was on  _purpose_."  
  
"That's not what I meant," Emmeline said. "Look at it this way: it took you practically six years to trust James at all, correct?"  
  
I nodded slowly. "So?"  
  
"And over those six years, you consistently expressed your hatred toward him, correct?"  
  
"Yeah, and?"  
  
"So how exactly did you expect your relationship to stay peachy when it took you six years to develop tolerance for the bloke, and another few months to even attempt to befriend him?"  
  
"But I  _do_  trust him," I said, glaring at her. "I don't know why I said what I said -- I don't know why I would be insecure about our relationship at all. It's a great relationship."  
  
"Then what's the bloody problem?" Emmeline demanded.  
  
"I don't know!" I said. "I just -- he won't tell me where he was on the night of the full moon, and he came back all tired and he's treating it like some big secret, and -- "  
  
"D'you want to know what I think?" Marly said, closing her Arabic book decisively. "I think you just can't stand not knowing."  
  
"Well,  _obviously_ ," I said. "I want to know what my boyfriend was doing one night when he came back exhausted and refused to talk to me. Is that so difficult to believe?"  
  
"Why can't you just trust him?" Dorcas said.   
  
"He would never cheat on you. You know that,” Alice said, pushing her soup away suddenly and looking a bit green.  
  
Yes, yes, I  _did_  know that. But then why hide it? Why not just  _tell_  me?  
  
I glanced back at James, just in time to see his head snap from my face back to Remus's. His neck turned so quickly that his hair fluttered.   
  
“He’s allowed to have secrets, Lily,” Marly said gently, and it was that, more than anything, that made me mouth,  _I’m sorry,_  to James the next time I caught his eye.  
  
To my despair, he rolled his eyes and looked away.  
  
***  
  
As usual when faced with any sort of hardship, I threw myself into my studies. All of my free time was consumed by the many old, forgotten spellbooks tucked into corners of shelves in the library. Madam Pince, whom I had befriended back in my first year, never doubted my motives, always either aiding me in my studies or letting me be, even when I finally grew bored with Transfiguration spells and moved on to the first few shelves of the Restricted Section.   
  
The very first book I looked through was enough to put me off the entire section for days; it featured gruesome sketches of various methods of torture that only very dark wizards could possibly deem acceptable.   
  
The second book, however, was a detailed history of dark magic, with contents varying from the Egyptian demon Set’s notes on iron-working and the afterlife to Merlin’s drawings of Vivaine from before she betrayed him.   
  
I ignored the fact that outside, the first beautiful day since before Christmas was blooming. The book was fascinating, and the library was blessedly deserted as all over the school, Hogwarts students packed for the upcoming spring holiday. I read for hours, through dinner and the sunset, until Madam Pince was tapping me lightly, her beak-like nose poised over my shoulder.  
  
“The library is closing, dear. Would you like to check that out?”  
  
I nodded, following her back to her desk.  
  
“Is this for History of Magic?” she asked, absently recording my name and the date.   
  
“No, just a cure for boredom,” I replied, and smiled at her.   
  
She laughed. “Not many students come in here for that,” she said. “Well, enjoy.”  
  
I nodded and left, tucking the book into my already overloaded bag as I exited the library. I was so caught up in trying to force it in that I didn’t notice Snape heading toward me until he tapped my shoulder.  
  
“Snape,” I said in greeting, trying to pretend that he had not startled me.  
  
“Evans,” he replied. “Listen. I need a bit of assistance brewing a potion.”  
  
“You?” I asked. “Assistance? Really?”  
  
“Well,” he said. “You see...the Dark Lord rewards those who are loyal to him. And your aid with some extremely difficult potions would – ”  
  
“So you’re a Death Eater,” I interrupted. “I knew it.”  
  
“I advise you to choose where your loyalties lie very carefully,” Snape said, suddenly urgent, his hand lunging forward to grip my arm. I tore it away.  
  
“You and your kind destroyed my family. I don’t ever want to see your face. I’m going to Dumbledore right now,” I said vehemently, barely able to contain the anger inside me.  
  
“Dumbledore’s a fool,” Snape hissed. “If he could do anything about the amount of Dark Lord supporters in Slytherin house, don’t you think he would have already?”  
  
“Evans!” James’s voice came from behind me. “Why are you talking to this scum?”  
  
Snape’s lip curled as he looked over my shoulder, presumably at James. “What would someone like  _you_  be doing in the  _library_  after dark?”  
  
“Maybe I wanted to do a bit of light reading,” James said. “So, Lily. Why the Death Eater consorting?”  
  
“I’m no Death Eater,” Snape said, and even as he did, his eyebrow twitched from the lie.   
  
James laughed. “Get to bed, Snape, before you get caught out after hours.”  
  
“I’ve still got – ”  
  
“ _Now_ , Snape. Or I’ll give you detention.”  
  
Snape glared at him. “Become a rule-sniffer, have we, Potter?”  
  
James raised an eyebrow and Snape skulked off, but just as I turned to James, opening my mouth to tell him off, he turned on his heel, walking briskly in the opposite direction.  
  
And that  _bothered_  me. I missed him, I missed sitting next to him in Potions and smiling in his direction during Transfiguration, and it bothered me, even now, after barely twenty-four hours, and I had to apologize.  
  
I tore after him, but even as I reached him and he turned toward me, I realized anything I said would be futile. His eyes were hard, angry.  
  
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know – I don’t know what I was thinking.”  
  
“I thought you trusted me.”  
  
“I do! I just--”  
  
“You just  _what_ , Lily? This relationship is not going to work if you don’t trust me!”  
  
I looked at my feet. “I know. I’m sorry. I just...I felt insecure, I guess.”  
  
For a moment, his angry mask slipped, and he looked almost anguished. Then he turned away. “We need to meet with the Order tomorrow evening. I’ll see you then.”  
  
***  
  
Later that night, my body decided it literally could not handle any more of the mental abuse my brain was so keen on delivering and broke down. I slept for so long that waking up was actually difficult, my eyes crusted together and mouth fuzzy and sticky inside.  
  
I felt disgusting, but could barely work up the will to move myself from my bed to the bathroom to wash, and when I did, I didn’t even bother to check that James’s door was locked.   
  
Luckily, James clearly did not feel it necessary to bathe, so I was left on my own for quite a while, though I’m not sure exactly  _how_  long--sleep had skewed my internal clock, left it twisted and stretched out. I felt like I was in the tub for hours, but the bubbles had barely begun to disappear when I stepped out, wrapped myself in a towel, and searched for clean robes.   
  
Once blissfully clean and fully dressed, I ventured outside of the common room and into the corridors, only to be met with nearly empty hallways. I still had not checked the time; for all I knew, it could very well be dinner by now.   
  
But the Great Hall, too, was deserted; figuring everyone must be watching a Quidditch match or something, I retreated to the Gryffindor common room. It was quite empty as well, though a few first and second year students were strewn about, playing Gobblestones or doing homework, and then I remembered: Hogsmeade! James and I had scheduled this as a Hogsmeade weekend ages and ages ago, but clearly I’d slept through my friends’ departure.  
  
Sighing and half-debating following them, I made my way to the kitchens to try and convince the house elves to feed me--and there sat Peter Pettigrew, legs crossed on a chair as he chewed at some leftover chicken legs.  
  
“Hello, Peter,” I said, sitting next to him and gratefully eating the cakes immediately set before me.   
  
“Hello, Lily. Your friends were a bit worried about you.”  
  
“Yes, well, they do tend to worry too much.”  
  
“You’ve been sleeping all day? Or have you been doing something more interesting?”  
  
I laughed. “I’m afraid not. I caught up on about a year’s worth of rest.”  
  
Peter laughed, too, and then we sat in vaguely awkward silence, eating together.   
  
“So why aren’t you with them?” I asked, cutting into a slice of shepherd’s pie. “You must have been bored here all alone.”  
  
“It’s nice to get a break from them sometimes,” Peter says. “They’re awfully loud.” He eyes me for a moment, then adds, “And – don’t tell anyone--but I have to be around to set up for something later.”  
  
“You’re joking,” I say, incredulous. “A prank? Now?”  
  
“You didn’t hear it from me,” Peter says.  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Look at the sun! So lovely!”  
  
I looked around quickly, then opened my mouth to say that there were no windows in the kitchens, but Peter had already run off. I considered chasing after him, but a house elf set my favorite treacle tart in front of me, and I decided to feast instead.  
  
But while I ate, an annoying new thought set upon me: James’s birthday was in just a week, and I had just missed the final Hogsmeade weekend before it, meaning I would have to find a gift for him in a mail-order catalogue. But then, I realized, it wouldn’t matter anyway...he was far too angry to want any sort of present from me for his birthday.  
  
Well then, I decided, it would just have to be a  _damn_  good present.  
  
***  
  
After dinner (and the return of the rest of the student body, which led, inevitably, to a heavy questioning from my friends as to why I had not been present and if it had something to do with James or--they said this in much more worried and sympathetic voices--fear of Hogsmeade itself, and then to a giggling description of Dorcas and Remus’s impromptu date, which Marly said had failed epically), we made our ways in twos and threes toward our private common room for the Order of the Phoenix meeting.  
  
There were only a few members present--Dumbledore, of course, and McGonagall, probably because they were all teachers and at the school anyway. And then there was Frank, whose presence at the school had become less and less frequent as the weeks passed. Alice sat next to him now, looking a little paler than usual but relatively cheerful, all things considered.  
  
On Frank’s other side was Edgar Bones, whom I recognized from another Order meeting, though we had never been formally introduced. James had mentioned something about Bones being the head of some security department in the Ministry.   
  
“We’ve received intelligence about an alleged Death Eater headquarters of sorts in Knockturn Alley,” Bones said now, spinning his wand between his fingers absently. “We have reason to believe they well be meeting up there next Saturday evening.”  
  
Bones paused, surveying us. “Unfortunately, my wife refuses to allow me to go myself because she is convinced that she’ll give birth on that day.” He laughed, and it struck me suddenly how utterly  _human_  he was. He had a pregnant wife who didn’t want him to miss the birth of his child. And yet here he was, likely risking his life just by giving us this information.  
  
“We don’t really need many of you,” Bones said. “Three or four should be enough. You can Polyjuice yourselves into well-respected pure blood couples and try to figure out which of the shops on Knockturn Alley hold the headquarters.”  
  
“Isn’t Knockturn Alley a bit...obvious?” Remus asked. “I mean...every wizard knows Knockturn Alley is full of Dark magic.”  
  
“I don’t think the Death Eaters care very much about being obvious,” McGonagall said grimly. “After all, the Ministry has not had very much luck using its  _brain_  to catch them.”  
  
Bones rolled his eyes at her. “We can hardly control the corruption within our ranks, Minerva. Half the Ministry workers  _are_  Death Eaters – or at least controlled by them.”  
  
“Well, one would expect the Department of Magical Security would do something to try and change that.”  
  
“So, Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, Miss Lawrence, Mr. Longbottom...Is it too much of me to ask you to be our two couples? After all, you already have the chemistry necessary to convincingly portray young lovers.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled toward us, and Bones scowled at McGonagall.   
  
“Professor, the thing is,” Sirius began. “The thing is, next Saturday is James’s birthday.”  
  
“Oh, yes, I’d nearly forgotten!” Dumbledore said. “You know, eighteen is not a very important birthday in the Wizarding world, but in the Muggle world, one officially becomes an adult at eighteen.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” James said. “We’ll do it.”  
  
“Excellent. Now, then. Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew, Miss McKinnon...I would like the three of you to go on a very similar, yet vastly different expedition. I have just enough Polyjuice Potion for you to impersonate three Slytherins, though you will have to figure out which Slytherins and how to get hold of bits of their hair and keep them out of the picture for the time required to learn as much as possible about precisely which Slytherins have ties to Lord Voldemort.”  
  
Remus, Peter, and Marly nodded; I could practically see the cogs in their heads turning as they planned out how exactly they would get a few strands of Slytherin hair.  
  
“Miss Vance, Miss Meadowes, Mr. Black...I’m afraid you three will have a much less exciting weekend doing research with me.”  
  
“Research what?” Dorcas asked, just as Sirius said, “You have  _got_  to be joking.”  
  
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Black. We will be researching families whose bloodlines were linked to past Dark wizards so that we know which students to keep an eye on.”  
  
Sirius groaned, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to notice.  
  
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said to James and me, winking. “We’ll meet again in my office Saturday morning before we all split up.”  
  
With that, he swept out of our room; Frank kissed Alice’s cheek before promptly following. McGonagall went through the door to the Gryffindor common room instead, but not before sending a withering glare at Bones, who was very deliberately not looking at her.   
  
“Good luck,” he said to us in farewell. “And thank you.”  
  
He ducked under an Invisibility Cloak and followed Dumbledore and Frank out of the room.  
  
James waited barely a moment after the teachers left to say, “Well, Dorcas, Emmeline, Marly, Lily, Alice, it’s been real.”   
  
He and the rest of the Marauders promptly left out of the same door Dumbledore had, looking extremely suspicious as they did so.  
  
“What do you think they’re planning?” I asked curiously.  
  
“Who knows? I saw Sirius and James arguing over some potion ingredients earlier,” Marly said. “But Remus wasn’t there, so of course they probably picked the wrong things for whatever it is they’re making.”  
  
“They’ll probably poison us all.”  
  
“Yes, probably,” Emmeline said, then grinning at Dorcas. “So,” she said. “Tell us about _Remy_.”  
  
“That’s literally the most disgusting nickname I’ve ever heard in my life,” Dorcas said. “And anyway, it probably won’t work out...he’s sweet, but not my type.”  
  
“I didn’t even know you liked him,” I said.  
  
“I didn’t! And he didn’t either.  _These_  idiots just decided to leave us at Madam Puddifoot’s alone and run off giggling...”  
  
I tried to picture James giggling, but failed. Sirius, on the other hand...  
  
“And anyway, I’m fairly certain they were just trying to get rid of all of us...Because Emmeline was off buying robes or something, and Marly just wouldn’t  _leave_  – ”  
  
“Oh, shut up, Dorcas, you know there was chemistry there.”  
  
“There was no such thing!”  
  
It struck me, suddenly, how very teenage we sounded just then, teasing each other about boys, not even mentioning the heavy tasks set upon our shoulders.   
  
“Evans!” Sirius’s voice came out of nowhere, shocking me out of my vague stupor. “Can I talk to you?”  
  
“What is it?” I asked, standing up.  
  
“It’s about – ” He looked at everyone around me, frowning. “It’s about James.”  
  
“Well, just tell us. We don’t mind listening,” Dorcas said, grinning mischievously.  
  
“It’s sort of private,” Sirius said. “Let’s go to James’s room.”  
  
I shrugged. “As long as you don’t  _ambush_  me with Remus and Peter again...”  
  
I followed him into James’s room, only to see Peter leaning on the bathroom door, frowning slightly.  
  
“How did you get in here?” I asked suspiciously. “I thought you’d all left...”  
  
“You’re sure we can trust her?” Sirius said.  
  
“She already sort of knows,” Peter admitted, completely ignoring me. “I told her we were doing  _something_ , just not exactly what.”  
  
“What exactly  _are_  you doing?” I asked, still suspicious.   
  
“You should probably come in and see,” Peter said.   
  
“We kind of, er...need your help,” Sirius said.  
  
“I thought we were talking about James.”  
  
“Yeah, that was just our way of getting your friends to not be as suspicious as you’re being right now.”  
  
Sirius opened the door and held it there. “Ladies first,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.  
  
It was ridiculously hot in the bathroom, and it only took me a moment to figure out why; next to the tub, Remus and James sat huddled over a large cauldron.  
  
James looked up as I entered. “What are you doing here?” He bent almost protectively over the cauldron.  
  
“I brought her,” Sirius said. “I felt her expertise was necessary.”  
  
He was clearly right: the potion was the color and consistency of tar, bubbling slowly and grotesquely and releasing foul-smelling green steam.  
  
“What exactly are you trying to make?” I asked.  
  
“Are you absolutely positive we can trust her?” James said, and I felt a little hurt.  
  
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here!” I said angrily. “What are you trying to make?”  
  
James sighed. “We’re trying to make a gender-switching potion.”  
  
“ _What_? You’re going to switch people’s  _reproductive organs_!?”  
  
“No!” Sirius said, a little too eagerly. “We’re going to switch their  _genders_! So like, you would still be a female  _physically_  –�but you would, you know, sniff your underarms and be sweaty and things.”  
  
“That,” I said, “is about the  _stupidest_  idea I have  _ever_  heard.”  
  
Sirius looked personally wounded. “No it’s not! It’s  _brilliant_!”  
  
“It doesn’t matter if it’s stupid,” Remus said, which led me to believe that he agreed with me. “We just, er. We seem to have messed up one of the ingredients.”  
  
“Well, what’s gone into it so far?”  
  
“Unicorn tail hairs, sugar, juice of tube worm, dog tail hairs, cinnamon, rat tails. Oh, and a splash of pumpkin juice for flavor.”  
  
“Hmm.” I sniffed at the potion. “I think there’s a bit too much dog tail...You should probably add a bit more of its foil, which I’m assuming is cinnamon. And it looks like you don’t have enough tube worm juice, you’re probably slicing it instead of mashing it up with your knife.”  
  
Remus followed my directions quickly, carefully measuring out more cinnamon and pouring it in as James murmured an incantation over the cauldron.  
  
The potion quickly turned into a deep, dark orange – too dark for pumpkin juice but not quite brown enough for coffee.  
  
“Is that right?” James asked doubtfully.   
  
“One of us will have to try it,” Sirius said, and looked mischievously at Peter.  
  
“Oh, don’t be a prick,” I said. “ _I’ll_  try it. Wait, you do have an antidote, right?”  
  
“The book says it’s just a simple spell,” Remus said.   
  
“Wait,” James said. “What if it’s poisonous?”  
  
“I’m sure it’s not,” I said. “It doesn’t smell particularly foul.”  
  
“Why don’t you read the book first,” he suggested, “so you can see if it looks right?”  
  
I took the book from him, and though the potion was supposed to be much paler according to the book, this version would likely be at least mostly functional.  
  
“I think it’s fine,” I said. “Just let me try a bit, and then we’ll know, and if it works you can just spell me back into a female.”  
  
“Alright,” James said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”   
  
He ladled some of the potion into a glass and handed it to me. “Just a bit,” he said.  
  
Ignoring him, I drank deeply. “It tastes...decent. Like pumpkin juice, but...not.”  
  
My voice sounded a bit gruffer, but otherwise I felt no different. The Marauders, however, were staring at me in shock.  
  
“What?” I said. “Nothing’s happened.”  
  
“No, look at yourself,” Sirius said, and pointed me toward the mirror. Some of the potion had dampened my mustache, so I wiped it off with my sleeve and belched loudly.  
  
Then--“I have a  _beard_!” I squeaked, except that the squeak sounded more like a cough. “I thought you said it wouldn’t change me biologically!”  
  
“This is  _brilliant_ ,” Sirius said. “I  _love_  this.”  
  
I laughed. “It is pretty brilliant,” I agreed. “I think my beard looks pretty damn good, don’t you?”  
  
James looked a little green. “Here, let’s change you back,” he said. “ _Cambio_.”  
  
I shivered as the bronze light coming out of his wand settled over me. “Did it work?”  
  
“Your voice sounds normal,” Sirius said. “But it looks like you’ve still got whiskers.” He sniggered. “Here, use Prongsie’s razor.”  
  
“No, she can just use a spell,” James said, pointing his wand at me again and mumbling something I didn’t catch.  
  
“Back to normal,” Remus said. “Thanks, Lily!”  
  
“Back to being beautiful, eh Prongs?” Sirius said, poking James.  
  
“I guess,” James said, not looking at me.  
  
And then it was silent for a moment, ridiculously silent and ridiculously  _awkwardly_  silent, and then I said, “Well, I, er. I guess I’d better be going now.”  
  
“Yes, that would probably be a good idea,” James said, still staring at a spot somewhere around my left shoulder.   
  
Remus sighed, Sirius rolled his eyes, and Peter laughed.  
  
“You two,” he muttered as I left the room, and then, “Remember, you’re sworn to secrecy!”  
  
“Just as long as I can bathe without becoming a male tomorrow morning,” I called back, shutting the door behind me and listening for the all too familiar  _click_  as it locked.  
  
***  
  
The following morning, I packed up my book about Dark wizards and headed toward the library to drop it off before breakfast.   
  
When I’d returned to the common room, my friends had been relentless about my alleged “serious conversation” with Sirius, but after a bit, they’d figured out that I hadn’t had all that serious a conversation; they’d also figured out that I smelled funny, and told me so.  
  
But I--despite my very basest instincts – had kept my word to the Marauders, even when I knew their prank could very well land them all in detention for a week or longer, or even potentially get them hexed by some angry students--and not even necessarily Slytherins.   
  
And when I sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, I realized that I was correct: the few students who were already eating were looking surprisedly at each other, then at their own reflections in the backs of spoons. I laughed and avoided the pumpkin juice set before, opting instead for coffee.  
  
“What d’you think?” asked Peter, sitting down across from me as he and the rest of the Marauders entered. “Everyone looks  _so_  shocked. I don’t think they’ve any idea that it’s coming from their pumpkin juice.”  
  
“You know, everyone thinks we’re hopeless at Potions,” Sirius told me. “They’ll never suspect us.”  
  
“I’m sure they will,” I said. “And anyway, I don’t think you’re hopeless at Potions. You were only a little off.”  
  
“Yeah, but we were only a little off in a potion that could very well have poisoned everybody,” Remus said.  
  
“You know, maybe we should have some pumpkin juice,” Sirius suggested. “Just so we’re less conspicuous.”  
  
“I don’t want to be a man again, thank you very much,” I said. “I’ll stick with coffee.”  
  
“Suit yourself,” Sirius said, and drank deeply, then giggled loudly as he looked down at himself. “Look at me! I’m  _curvaceous_!”  
  
“It really wasn’t supposed to change anyone biologically,” Remus said, a little worriedly.  
  
“That doesn’t seem to have worked out too well.”  
  
“No,” he agreed. “No, it hasn’t.”   
  
He produced a large jug from beneath the table and offered it to me. “Would you like some? Pumpkin juice, unspiked.”  
  
“You brought some of that?” Sirius asked, his voice delightfully and delightedly high-pitched. “I only really drank the juice so nobody would know what was turning them!”  
  
“And you did that by drinking the juice that would turn you into a girl?” I asked.  
  
“Well, I did sort of want to experience girliness. Aren’t I pretty?”  
  
He was pretty, though not necessarily attractive; the potion hadn’t removed all of his stubble, and it was quite clear that he hadn’t shaved that morning.  
  
Alice and Marly came in then, sitting on either side of me. Alice looked a bit green and pushed away the cup that Sirius offered her.  
  
“I think I’ll just have water,” she said quietly.   
  
“Are you alright?” I asked.  
  
She nodded, but it was quite obvious to anyone watching that she was not.  
  
“Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?” I asked.  
  
“No, I’m fine,” she said, poking at some porridge but not eating it.  
  
“Well – alright,” I said, but watching her out of the corner of my eye just in case she vomited all over the table.   
  
Sirius, meanwhile, was still admiring himself in a spoon. “I think I look  _rather_  pretty. I’d date me. Lily, what lipstick would you recommend for my skin tone?”   
  
“What’s happened to you?” Marly asked, frowning as she drank from her own glass of pumpkin juice. “You look – rather feminine.” She scratched her armpit and peered Sirius’s chest. “I think you’ve got  _breasts_ , Sirius!”  
  
“My eyes are up here, Mar _lene_ ,” Sirius said, pouting.   
  
“When does the potion wear off?” I asked Remus. “Or is the antidote necessary?”  
  
“They’ll be turned back to normal by tomorrow morning,” he replied. “Are you quite sure you don’t want some of the clean juice?”  
  
“No, just the coffee is – Alice?”  
  
She’d leapt up suddenly, clutching at her mouth, and was now charging toward the Great Hall’s exit. I exchanged a glance with Marly.  
  
“I’ll follow her,” I said, looking Marly up and down; her shoulders were a bit broader, stretching out her robes, but otherwise she looked mostly the same, except for the thick, shiny mustache beneath her nose, much darker than her current short, platinum blond haircut.   
  
She nodded. “I’ll just figure out how to become a woman again,” she said, grunting at Sirius, who fluttered his eyelashes back at her.  
  
I rolled my eyes and quickly went after Alice, spotting her just as she reached the the door and breaking into a run so as not to lose her.   
  
“Alice?” I shouted after her, finally finding her just as she slipped into a bathroom.  
  
“Alice?” I said, following her in. “Are you alright?”  
  
The bathroom was completely empty except for us, and I could hear her retching into a toilet. She hadn’t even closed the door behind her, so I followed her in and bent over behind her, helping her keep her hair out of her face.  
  
When she finished, she stood, a little wobbly, and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Lily,” she whispered. “Lily, I’ve got to tell you something.”   
  
I helped her toward the sink and watched as she splashed cold water onto her face. She looked like she’d gained weight, and then suddenly, a split second before she said anything, I understood.  
  
“Lily, I’m pregnant.”  
  



	25. Twenty Four: From Peter Pettigrew's Perspective

"So when are you two going to hook back up?" Sirius asked James as Lily ran after her friend.

James shoved him, as I mostly knew he would, and didn't reply.

"You know, you don't make a very pretty girl," I said. "You're a bit... _manly_."

"That's because I  _am_  a man, you  _clot_ ," Sirius said. "Why don't  _you_  try some? I'm sure you'll make a  _much_ prettier girl than I would."

"I'm sure I would," I said. "I wouldn't be quite so canine."

"No, you'd be a bit mousy," James said.

"That was horrible," Remus said, barely looking up from his copy of the  _Prophet_.

"Why do you even read that anymore? It's useless. You might as well read Auror reports."

"It's kind of amusing, in a sickening sort of way. Look, they've written a whole article about how werewolves are  _directly_ contributing to the rise in dementor attacks."

"It'd be funny, maybe, if people didn't actually believe that rubbish," I said, tugging the paper away from him. "Come on, appreciate the work we've done. The entire Great Hall is gender-screwed right now and it's all  _our_ handiwork!"

"Thank you for your admission, Mr. Pettigrew," said a foreboding voice from behind me, and all at once I felt as if I were a first year again, getting caught out of bed after dark for the very first time. We hadn't all been able to fit underneath the Cloak, not if we wanted to move, so Sirius – even more bigheaded than he was now, bless him – had shoved me out, hissing that if I wanted to get Snivellus back I'd have to run faster than him. I couldn't even remember what we'd wanted to get Snape back for-only that it had resulted in my first ever detention.

Now, six years older but hardly any more tactful, Sirius groaned. "Great job, Peter," he said, wrinkling his nose. He really wasn't a very pretty girl; even now, he looked almost scary, nose all wrinkled, stubble – and was that  _blush_?-coating his cheeks.

"You too, Black? I was fully prepared to only apprehend the other three of you. I thought they'd pulled a fast one on you." McGonagall sounded extremely amused, or at least as amused as she ever sounded. I snickered.

"Prick," Sirius mumbled toward me, and McGonagall glared at him for it before ordering us to fix it.

"No can do, Professor," James said, smiling suddenly, all charming. "It'll fix itself in good time."

"I very highly doubt that, Potter. Not much you four do does."

"Ah, but that is because you professors never give it a chance to reach fruition," James said, smile broadening. "If you  _did_ , you might get the opportunity to see just how beautiful humour truly is."

"Very well then," McGonagall said. "The four of you can teach me tonight, when you're in _detention_ in my office."

"What-are you going to make us clean the trophy room?" Sirius asked.

"Help Hagrid clear the forest?" James suggested.

"Help Slughorn separate unicorn hairs from dragon scales?"

"Use our brooms to clean the corridors?"

"Polish Dumbledore's magical objects using only cotton swabs and elbow grease?"

"Let Filch use his-"

"None of the above," McGonagall interrupted. "You're going to write lines."

Sirius looked horrified, and as the terrible fate that had befallen us set in, I found myself feeling almost lost.

"Not- _lines_ ," James said hoarsely. "Would you really torture us like that?"

"Yes, Potter, you'll find I'm quite eager to torture you  _exactly_ like that. You're lucky I didn't drink some of that potion myself, or I would have had to suspend you from the Quidditch team."

James snorted; anyone who knew anything about Minerva McGonagall knew she would never jeopardise Gryffindor's chances at the Quidditch cup.

"Alright, perhaps not," she admitted. "Now. What is the antidote?"

"I'm afraid you'll either have to find the book we used as a guideline or wait it out," Sirius said. "Look, we don't even show preferential treatment. Aren't I pretty?"

"Not particularly. Did the spell have dog tail hairs and sugar in it, by any chance?"

"It did," I said. "How'd you know?"

She smiled, a little triumphantly. "You're hardly the first students to use gender-switching potions, you know."

With that, she turned and walked away, speaking with Dumbledore upon reaching the staff table. He laughed and shook his head.

Sometimes, I swear, that man just wanted to be a Marauder.

But that evening, after we'd written "I am not allowed to give men breasts" hundreds of times a piece on roll after roll of parchment, we were much less cheerful. James in particular was ridiculously gloomy.

"What is it, Prongs?" Remus asked, looking up from the essay he was writing.

"It didn't help." James' voice was low, his eyes cast downward. "I thought it'd help, but it didn't."

"What didn't help?" I asked.

"The  _prank_ , Wormtail, honestly," Sirius said. His stubble had grown a bit, but his body was still deceptively female-as part of his punishment, McGonagall had refused to switch him back, and he, happy to take his punishment as always, did not ask us to help him with the spell. "You're so slow sometimes."

"Leave him alone," Remus said, just as James said, "We shouldn't have let Lily help."

"Blimey, I forgot about that-d'you think we can get her in trouble for it?" Sirius said. "That'd be  _brilliant_."

"She  _helped_ us," I said indignantly. "When did you turn into a snitch, Padfoot?"

"Stop being such a  _rat_ , Peter," Sirius said, but he dropped the subject and I relished the small triumph, running a hand through my hair like James did, trying, in my momentary cockiness, to achieve the same carefree look he wore so well.

"It doesn't  _matter_ , we're not going to  _snitch_  on her, I just – Sirius, this is  _serious_ , stop being a  _prick_."

"It is indeed Sirius," Sirius said, and laughed, clearly failing to realize that we'd all grown tired of the joke by second term of first year.

"So tell me," James said, changing the subject after an eyeroll, his gloominess gone, replaced, suddenly, by a smile so radiant that I nearly believed, for a moment, that it was real. "Remus, what's Dorcas like in private?"

"You know perfectly well that Sirius only set us up to get his free minute with Marlene."

"He didn't even get a free minute," Sirius said. "He had to share with  _James_."

"Why are you talking about yourself in third person?" Remus asked, his left eyebrow arched bemusedly.

"Don't change the subject. How was your  _date_?"

"I wouldn't even call it a date, first of all," Remus said. "We left Puddifoot's immediately, went and had a drink at the Three Broomsticks, and then we looked at books for a bit."

"Merlin, Moony, you are  _boring_. You didn't snog or anything? Maybe have a shag in a bush near the Shrieking Shack?"

Remus didn't look up from his essay. "I can't fathom why anybody would ever want to have a shag near that place. It's haunted, you know."

Sirius snorted, and I laughed. James was not looking at any of us, his eyes cast toward the window but glazed over. It tugged at something inside me to see him, one of my closest friends, certainly my  _first_ friend, look like that.

"Prongs," I said, then revised it to, "James. James, are you alright?"

"What?" He looked back over at us, blinked, then quickly smiled again. "Yes, yeah, I'm fine."

Almost as if the lie had called to her, Lily entered the common room she and James shared at precisely that moment, her long red hair piled into a bun on top of her head. I think that, at some point or another, all of us were a little bit in love with Lily Evans, and seeing her then, circles under her eyes making her look almost skeletal, long neck bare and vulnerable, twisted at something inside me the same way James's eyes had, and it struck me, then, how perfect they were for each other, the two broken spirits who wouldn't stop fighting.

"Hello," Lily said, looking amusedly toward Sirius. "I see you've not yet spelled yourself back to normal."

"It's rather nice being a woman," Sirius said. "I can just roll out of bed and go to class."

Lily laughed dryly. "Yes, well, natural beauty does rule above all else, I suppose."

"Why don't you sit down?" Remus asked. "I can't figure out the final use of hippogriff feathers..."

"That one's a bit of a trick," Lily replied. "Does a hippogriff only have feathers?"

" _Right_ ," Remus said. "Its fur-thanks, Lily!"

He bent back over his essay, scribbling furiously. "Done."

"At least Slughorn'll be happy," Sirius said. "How can you still write, anyway, after you've been writing lines for hours?"

"Lines?" Lily asked.

"Our punishment," I explained. "For the prank."

"Oh," she said. "Oh, I do feel a bit bad about that. Maybe I should tell McGonagall I helped..."

We all assured her that it would not be necessary, but she still looked a bit guilty, so I decided to change the subject.

"What was up with Alice, anyway, this morning?" I asked. "She looked ill."

"Yeah, it was...just a bit of stomach flu," she said. "Pomfrey'll have her all fixed up soon..."

And then it was awkward, her standing silent, fingers twitching up to her hair like she wanted to run her fingers through it before she remembered that it was all pulled up, and I thought that she'd picked up quite a lot more from James than any of us really realized.

"Well, um," she said. "I'll just, er. I'll just-go and do some homework."

"Lily, wait," I said, standing to follow her. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

James looked at me suspiciously, but Lily shrugged. "Okay. What is it?"

"It's, er. It's sort of private."

James looked even more suspicious, raising an eyebrow and leaning back, but Remus nodded slightly at me.

"We could...go to my room?" Lily suggested, and Merlin, I was bad at this, but at least she didn't think I was some creep.

I followed her into her room, which, strangely, didn't smell like her-or at least, not  _just_ like her. It smelled a bit like James's sweat, that scent he always had when he got back from playing Quidditch, and a little sweet, like girls' shampoo. This was, however, the only sign that somebody lived in the room; though her trunk stood on one side of her wardrobe, it was closed, not a single stitch of clothing peaking out from under the lid. Her bed was neatly made-so neatly, in fact, that it looked as if it had been that way, all starched and pressed, for days. There was no clothing on the floors; there were no spare shoes or socks tossed about haphazardly like there were in our dormitory. Her bedroom was unnaturally,  _impeccably_ , clean.

"Er...Lily," I said, once the door was closed. She sat down on the edge of her bed and started taking off her boots.

"Yes, Peter?" She did not look up.

"Well, the thing is, we're sort of planning, like – a sort of. A party."

"For James?"

"Yeah. We just – we wanted you to know. So that you could be there."

"Are you sure he even wants me there?" She still wasn't looking at me, but she had stood, opened her wardrobe, presumably to put her shoes away.

"We're positive."

She looked at me, finally, a little skeptically. "I don't think so."

"We're having it Saturday night. After – after whatever happens. We'll have balloons and all that, and-and  _fireworks_ or something. It'll be great."

The fireworks had been Sirius's idea; Remus had looked at him long and hard when he'd said that, then burst into a bark of laughter that was eerily reminiscent of a dog's. Sometimes I forgot Remus was actually a werewolf-though not usually around this time, only a day before the full moon, when his face started to look more gaunt, his hair less controllable, constantly on end and somehow much shaggier than usual.

"If you're sure he wants me there," Lily said, and then shrugged. "Alright. I'll be there."

I tilted my head to the side, squinting slightly, trying to see what James saw; she was pretty, but that wasn't what he loved her for. So was it her temper? She wasn't particularly angry all the time, not at us, not anymore. She was always channeling her anger into something else lately, spells or potions or fighting, and maybe that was why she'd suddenly had the capacity to love James back.

"Peter?" Lily said, and I snapped out of it.

"Sorry," I mumbled, turning to leave before she stopped me, a hand on my shoulder.

"You don't need to be so quiet," she said. "Your friends will love you even if you disagree with them."

I looked back at her, very quickly, uncertainly, before turning back toward the door. "I know," I said, and left.

The next day passed slowly, both because of our intense anticipation of the upcoming evening spent running about the grounds as animals and because we were constantly at each other's throats without Remus to shut us all up. James was barely speaking to me, and what he did say was flavored with eyerolls. It was this, more than anything, that made it clear to me that Lily had influenced James quite heavily right back, and I laughed the first time he'd done it, only to instantly regret it when he stood and stalked off.

"We should probably tell him I wasn't snogging her," I said, but Sirius, whose body was now as masculine as ever, shook his head.

"We don't want him to know what you  _were_ doing," he said, then sighed. "No, you're right, he really should know one of his best mates isn't trying to steal his girl."

"It'll sort itself out, though," I said. "Tonight, when we're in Hogsmeade with Moony. He's never been able to hold a grudge through a full moon."

"True," Sirius said. "It's getting a bit late, isn't it time for you to go find him?"

I nodded and left the common room as a rat, scampering through the corridors as quickly as my paws would carry me. At one point, Filch chased me with his broom, muttering something about "stupid magical filthy  _beasts_ " when I ran up and then into a suit of armour. He left me mostly alone after that, which was good because it meant I could make it to the Whomping Willow more easily.

I didn't bother to hit the knot now-I'd wait for that until Sirius's face showed up on the mirror James let Remus borrow every full moon. Instead, I stayed a rat until I was inside the shack.

It was not very dark yet, so Remus had yet to transform. He was lying on an old mattress instead, reading some Muggle book or other – he'd been into Muggle fantasy lately, said it amused him when they got things wrong. Right now, he was reading  _The Hobbit_ , chuckling at something within its pages.

"Hello, Wormtail," he said quietly as I transformed back into a human and dragged a chair over to the mattress. He always looked a bit surprised to see me, as if I – or any of the Marauders – would ever abandon a friend. He sat up.

"Hello, Moony," I said. "How've you been?"

"Bored," he said gloomily. "I think tonight's going to be a hard one."

"We'll be fine," I said.

"I think I should tell Lily about being a werewolf."

"Oh?"

"She needs to know this about James. That he's – that he's an Animagus, what he does every full moon."

"You might want to talk to him about that first," I said, but Remus wasn't listening, his face suddenly turned toward the window, looking, a little sadly, at the moon, as its light suddenly bathed him. Reflexively, I became a rat again, quickly scampering back into the tunnel to press the knot for James and Sirius.

By the time I returned, dog and stag in tow, Moony was fully transformed, howling incessantly as Padfoot nudged him with his snout. Moony turned toward him and snarled, tearing at Padfoot with his teeth, but the dog bit back, and then Prongs was there, his antlers forcing Moony back.

It only took a few minutes to tame Moony, now that we knew what we were doing and were used to it after so many full moons, and when we left the Shrieking Shack, we expected to find Hogsmeade deserted-but it wasn't. People were milling about-suspicious-looking people, probably Death Eaters or their allies, but people nonetheless, and Moony, suddenly, his snout raised as he sniffed at the air, howled.

Padfoot looked around at me, and I bit into Moony's foot as hard as I could, hard enough to draw blood, to distract him. Meanwhile, Padfoot and Prongs drew Moony away from the light just as people started to turn toward us. I could practically hear James swearing under his breath the way I knew he would be doing had he been human, but now he was soundless, guiding Moony back toward the Shrieking Shack and into the old building, where, once let loose, he tore up several couches.

Padfoot shook his big, furry head at me, which meant "This is really bloody terrible," in the pseudo-sign language we'd developed. We both understood that, once human again, Remus would feel terrible for being more blood thirsty than usual – since he'd actually smelled human this time – but also for nearly hurting somebody, regardless of that somebody's allegiances. Remus was probably the only person I'd ever met who wouldn't want to use his powerful werewolf body against somebody else.

Now, however, he was tearing out chunks of sofa, and then he was charging toward me, his massive body looming above me as I tried my utmost to run away-but I had noticed too late, moved away too slowly, and he took me between his teeth and threw me at the wall, and, all at once, the dizzying pain set in, and the world around me started to spin and then fade and then flicker in and out until, finally, flickering out.

"It's incredible, really," Madam Pomfrey was saying as I came to. "You four always manage to hurt yourselves at the same time. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were all fighting one another..."

She was not speaking to me, but to the person in the bed just beyond mine, as she treated me, pressing a warm cloth to my head. Immediately, I felt the throbbing pain in my temples fade away and opened my eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Pettigrew. I see you've rejoined us." Pomfrey stirred something in a stark white cup with her wand, sniffed it, and held it out to me. "Drink."

I drank obediently, trying not to gag-as usual, it tasted foul.

"I'm not sure how," she said. "But you've managed to break eight of your ribs  _and_ your tailbone in one go. And you have some suspicious looking wounds all over your torso, but we've managed to fix them. They actually look a bit like dog bites."

She looked me in the eye, suddenly. "Or wolf bites."

She looked back at the bed beyond me. "Mr. Lupin? You wouldn't happen to have any memory of last night, would you?"

"Just vaguely," he said, and I looked over at him. He was sitting up, drinking tea, but still deathly pale; a freshly-healed wound peaked out from beneath his sheets. Between us sat Sirius in a comfortable-looking chair, looking down at a book in his lap, uncharacteristically still, and on my other side was James, also very still, though he was not reading but staring at his shoes, frowning slightly.

"You wouldn't know if you got out of the Shack, would you?" Her voice was greatly lowered to keep anyone else from overhearing, but she already knew we knew, so she didn't bother to hide it from us.

"I didn't," Remus said. "I was in there all night. There are broken couches to prove it."

"Very well," she said, and turned back toward me. "So if they're not werewolf bites-what are they?"

"I fell," I replied, smiling sweetly and wincing at the sudden pain it caused in my jaw.

She sighed exasperatedly and pressed the tip of her wand against my cheek, mending whatever had dislocated itself in my mouth.

"You're nearly fixed up," she said. "We just have to wait for all the potions to take effect. I want you here until tomorrow afternoon at least."

She turned to Sirius. "Mr. Black, how is your arm feeling?"

"Much better," Sirius said, rolling up his sleeve and showing her the place where his flesh had barely scarred. "I can almost feel it when pinch myself now."

She nodded, then turned to James. "Mr. Potter, your back?"

"Feels much better now that I'm sitting," he said, not looking up.

This glum feeling was not something new; every time we had a bad full moon, a failed night, when one of us got really injured-beyond the usual scrapes or bites, but really injured – we did not recover, emotionally, for days. Remus always insisted that it would be our last full moon with him, but, though we'd tried once, when all three of us had come away week injuries that lasted weeks and had taken ages to fix and Snape had nearly died, it simply had not felt right to leave Remus on his own. Instead, we were a little more grim, a little more careful, the next time, watching the werewolf just a little more closely for any signs of rage.

This time, however, Remus was resolutely not looking at any of us, even when Sirius tried to talk to him, and it felt like he had severed something between himself and all of us, that delicate bond of complete and utter trust in one another. When Pomfrey left to get something out of her office, he turned to me and said, very firmly, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

The week passed quickly after that, though people seemed to be treating me a bit more delicately now that my ribs were newly mended and still quite fragile. Otherwise, barely anything changed, though James scheduled more and more Quidditch practices in preparation for the Saturday match with Hufflepuff. This left me frightfully lonely, as Remus was acting painfully distant, and sitting on the bleachers watching James and Sirius practice had lost its charm when they'd started practicing for three or four hours a day.

I found warmth, and a little bit of companionship, in the kitchens; the house elves, always eager to serve, knew me well enough by now to be comfortable having a conversation with me, even if their squeaks of "Mr. Pettigrew, sir!" were still quite frequent. They brought me snacks and made me feel as though I had actual power – though I knew, of course, that they treated everyone this way.

And then on Saturday, I made my way to the Quidditch pitch after a bit of a lie in. It was March, so still cold enough to require a scarf and hat, but I left my cloak behind, sure that, were it too cold to bear, Remus or Lily would conjure a flame for us to help us keep warm. It had been ages since the last Gryffindor Quidditch match-McGonagall had taken pity on the team's recent losses and managed to schedule as many matches as possible before Gryffindor had to play again.

When I reached the pitch, however, the match was nearly over; Max Jordan called out the score, and I was shocked at the closeness – "60 points Gryffindor, 40 points Hufflepuff!"-and I wondered how I'd managed to sleep through the ten cheers that had undoubtedly shaken the stands.

Then, when I'd barely sat down between some fifth years who tossed dirty looks my way, Calvin Whitby shot past James, sending a Quaffle past Emmeline Vance and into the hoops, raising his arms triumphantly even as Sirius sent a Bludger flying his way, nearly knocking him off his broom. Whitby spun around in midair, holding on desperately, and the Hufflepuffs watching shouted, "FOUL!"

Saggese, who was referree-ing, nodded fervently, flying over to Sirius and shouting at him as he gestured wildly in a pseudo-innocent manner.

Whitby got the Quaffle in again for his foul, though, tying the score and causing James to tug angrily at his hair, glaring at Sirius, who shrugged innocently and flew past Danny Ogden, who was clearly trying to get near the Bludger and bang it back at Sirius, but Marlene got to it first. With what was clearly tremendous effort, she sent it rocketing at Ogden and away from Kevin Abercrombie, who had made a sudden dive and was now being chased by the Hufflepuff Seeker, Michael Macmillan.

But Ogden was not Hufflepuff's best player for nothing; he easily batted the Bludger back at Abercrombie, hitting the back of his broom and sending him flying into Macmillan. The two of them pummeled toward the ground, their brooms entangled, until Marlene dove, helping Abercrombie steady himself. The Snitch was lost, and for a moment things quieted down-but then Ravi sent the Quaffle through Hufflepuff's hoops twice in very quick succession, and then Abercrombie dove again, then shot back up, flying over all of our heads in pursuit of the Snitch, Macmillan hot on his tail.

But Kevin caught it, shot up again, holding it over his head triumphantly and grinning as every member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soared toward him, piling over him, creating a figure so large that it almost looked like a cloud, and the cheers from Gryffindor's side of the pitch were deafening as Max Jordan screamed, "AND THEY'RE BACK! Gryffindor with the win! 230 to 60!"

It was a shame, really, that half the team would miss the party.

Under the borrowed Invisibility Cloak, Remus, Marlene and I each tailed and caught our own Slytherin-a whispered " _Stupefy_ " and a Disillusionment Charm were all it took to sneak all three of them into a corner. We covered them in a different Invisibility Cloak, one of Moody's old spares, which was threadbare and actually cast a bit of a dull white shadow, but as we left the Slytherins in an abandoned and skillfully locked (by Remus, naturally) classroom, it wasn't likely to matter.

Marlene handed us our Polyjuice when we returned to the common room that James and Lily shared and that Dumbledore had turned into something of an Order headquarters here in the school. "I think a few strands should be enough," Marelene said doubtfully. "But you might want to throw in the whole hank for good measure."

She stirred in the hairs she'd taken off Andrea Stoneham's head (we knew Stoneham only as the girl whose boyfriends were constantly changing, especially around the holidays – at the time she'd been dating Zabini for nearly four months, a record for her) and sniffed at it. "Disgusting," she said, somehow not needing to remove her cigarette before speaking.

Remus laughed and threw in his hairs, from the head of Matarus Avery, and stirred them with his wand. As if on cue, I added Theodore Nott's hairs, and the three of us clinked our glasses together and drained them.

It was not as though I'd never used Polyjuice before-once, in our second year, we'd all switched places with each other. Our weeks of hard work creating the potion resulted in almost nothing-since we were all together all the time anyway, none of the teachers noticed anything was amiss. The only real difference was that I got a better grade on a test than James. It had given me a strange sort of inner triumph to take a test under his name, knowing that he would fail it. But he'd barely noticed, going on to pass every other test that term with flying colors, causing McGonagall to peer at him suspiciously when she went over the answers. It was one of our less-inspired pranks, really.

And then again, in our sixth year, we'd used Polyjuice that we'd made in Potions class to turn ourselves into Snape. He had tasted disgusting, his potion the consistency of grease.

"You'll be Theodore Nott," she said, putting out her cigarette on the ash tray that I was fairly certain belonged to her exclusively. "Remus'll be Matarus Avery, I will be Andrea Stoneham-you know, the girl who's dating Zabini-and we'll sneak in, be all Death Eater-y, get all the information we need, and get out. We have enough Polyjuice for about two hours in the Slytherin common room, and Dumbledore told me the password last night, it's 'Sangre.'"

I nodded, and Marlene and Remus raised their glasses. We all clicked them together, then downed the liquid wordlessly. Theodore Nott tasted foul, like spoiled milk, and I had to force myself not to gag as I felt my body stretch and twist.

"Well, team," Marlene said grimly when her transformation was complete – her robes stretched tight across her chest, hair and skin several shades darker – "Looks like we've got some Death Eaters to spy on."

It was such a stupid thing to say that Remus and I both burst out laughing, and Marlene looked almost sheepish for a moment before muttering, "Death Eaters have no sense of humor," and leading us out of the common room.

I took a breath that was much too deep for my lungs to handle, glanced at Remus, who refused to meet my eye, and followed.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter was written just before my senior year of high school, after almost a year without updates. I may or may not have lost interest in the story in favor of passing classes and watching soccer, and after chapter 26 it took me ages to get back to the story, but I did a few months ago and now I've only got one chapter left to write. Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	26. Twenty Five

Alice was sleeping, her body curled in on itself like she was too scared to sleep stretched out the way she used to. She was in my bed, her face still pale from that morning, hair still a bit damp, and I began to question the wisdom of her involvement in the Order of the Phoenix – I wondered how safe it was for a pregnant woman to be on missions of any sort, missions that might get her or Frank killed and leave her child parentless. I could not think of any worse way to bring him or her into the world than without his two parents, and resolved, suddenly, without even really thinking about it, that if it happened, I would raise the child as my own.

Alice stirred, then, eyes fluttering open. "How long have I been asleep?" she asked.

"A few hours," I said. "You haven't really missed anything exciting. Marauders got lines for their prank."

Alice sat up. "I should go back to my room."

"You can stay for the night if you'd like."

"No, I don't want to be a bother." She looked down, suddenly, wringing her hands nervously. "Lily-how am I going to tell Frank? He's not-it's not something we've talked about. I mean, it  _is_ , but we never thought it'd happen so soon – we thought – after Hogwarts, and after the war was over – but who-who would want to bring a child into a world like this one?"

I moved closer to her, careful not to hold her too tightly, and sighed. "It's a little bit of life, though, isn't it? It balances the ratio a little more, bringing a child into the world. It's pure defiance."

"I'm only seventeen," Alice choked, and I felt her tears dampen my sleeve. "I don't – Lily, I don't think it's a good idea."

"You don't think what is a good idea?" I asked, but I had the sinking suspicion that I already knew.

"I don't think this baby is a good idea. It's not-People die every day, Lily, and people are tortured. I don't want my child to grow up without me. And I certainly don't want her to grow up in a world where people use every locking charm they can think of before they go to bed and still have too high a chance of never waking up."

"I know," I said, and I couldn't think of an argument that would convince her to keep the baby, so I said, "Whatever you choose to do, I will side with you."

"I can't keep her," she said, and then burst into tears again. "I'm certain she's a girl. I've always wanted a girl."

"There will be more chances," I said, barely resisting the words on the tip of my tongue: _or you could keep her_.

"How am I going to tell Frank that I want to give up our child?" she whispered, and I felt torn: Did I try and stop her from what I knew she wanted to do? Or did I help her, my best friend, ensure that her baby would never be motherless because she wouldn't be born until she was sure it was safe?

"I don't know what to do," Alice said, and I clutched her hand and did not reply.

***

Later, returning from dropping Alice off in the Gryffindor common room and sitting beside her until she fell back into a fitful sleep, I was practically ambushed by all four Marauders in the private common room. Sirius, still distinctly female, was rubbing his hand absently.

"Hello," I said, trying not to laugh. "I see you've not yet spelled yourself back to normal."

"It's rather nice being a woman," Sirius said. "I can just roll out of bed and go to class."

I laughed. How nice that would be, to never care about one's appearance.

"Why don't you sit down?" Remus said, gesturing to his essay. "I can't figure out the final use of hippogriff feathers."

That had taken me a bit, too, but there was a trick to it-hippogriffs, miraculous beasts as they were, did not have only feathers covering their bodies.

I stood there, making small talk, feeling a bit guilty that they'd gotten detention and I had not, even though I'd very deliberately (though a bit impulsively) helped them with their prank. None of them seemed to mind, though, as they all brushed it off when I suggested turning myself in, and then, suddenly, it was awkward, me standing there, not talking, itching to twist a lock of hair or run my hand through it in that stress-relieving way I'd picked up from James, James not looking at me, Sirius being female, and Peter said, "Lily, there's something I need to talk to you about."

I looked at anything but James and shrugged in a would-be nonchalant way. "Alright. What is it?"

"It's, er. Well, it's sort of private."

Still not looking at James, I said, "We could go to my room?"

Peter nodded fervently, following me to my bedroom and watching as I sat down on my bed and started taking off my boots.

"We're planning a sort of-well, a party."

"For James?" I asked, already knowing the answer; after all, Sirius had been fairly indignant when he'd heard that as members of the Order, we'd all be ridiculously busy on James's birthday. "Are you sure he even wants me there?"

I looked up in time to see Peter roll his eyes. "We're positive," he said.

"I don't think so."

"It'll be great," Peter said, promising me that there would be fireworks. That sounded dangerous.

But, naturally, I could not resist. "If you're sure he wants me there," I said. "Then alright. I'll be there."

Peter cocked his head to the side, staring at me, his eyes painfully penetrating, and I suddenly felt like I was naked. "Peter?" I said, and he seemed to snap out of it.

"Sorry," he mumbled, blushing, and I felt terrible.

"You don't need to be so quiet," I said. "You know your friends will love you even if you disagree with them."

Peter looked skeptical, but he said, "I know," very quickly, and then left, leaving me feeling a little unsettled, but I barely had time to dwell on it-immediately I found myself trying to decide what to do for James's birthday, and then what to tell Alice, who had changed her mind at least eight times in the last hour about what she wanted to do about the growing child in her stomach.

It was all too much to think about, and my mind and body were so exhausted that I found myself sinking into sleep without ever consciously going to bed. It wasn't until later, when I woke up with a start, that I understood that the miraculous had happened: I'd slept without any potions or spells or people to help me.

I reveled in this small triumph until I left my room and noticed James, still in the same space he'd been occupying hours before, eyes cast upward, unopened book sitting uselessly in his lap. He looked terrible. I sat next to him tentatively, but he didn't move or speak. He didn't appear to notice me at all.

I moved closer, letting our bodies touch, then pressing against his warmth. "You're exhausted."

"You don't trust me." His voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it, even in such proximity, and he did not respond when I pressed my mouth to his.

"I can't trust you, either, now," he said. He did not look at me, but I darkened the room with my want and tugged him against me anyway. We collapsed together on the couch, and it was so uncomfortable that I almost couldn't breathe. He did not appear able to resist, and I let him tuck his face into my neck and inhale against me. "I'm exhausted," he said, and I felt his lashes flutter shut against my skin.

***

I woke hours later, alone and too late for breakfast. I felt hollow as I made my way to class, robe thrown haphazardly over sweatpants, hair still greasy from the day before.

"You look terrible," Marlene whispered as we sat down for Transfiguration, and I tried to force myself to laugh. On my other side, Alice was silent, rubbing her wrist absently, and I let my hand snake down to grab hers, aching for the human contact. She did not resist, but barely reciprocated, and I was suddenly positive she'd already gotten rid of it.

Neither of them spoke again all class, however, and I failed miserable at taking notes on human transfiguration.

"This will be on your NEWTs," McGonagall said forebodingly as we left. "And then I won't be there to make sure you don't screw your heads back on backwards!"

We all nodded and left, and I found myself unable to stay with anyone else for the afternoon; that morning's desire for closeness had been replaced by still more emptiness. All I wanted to do was sit in the back of the library alone and read some stupid Muggle literature like Remus. Alas, there was no time for that; I had to practice practical spells, to make sure I was in top shape for our little Hogsmeade trip the upcoming weekend. I refused to let myself be caught off-guard yet again. It was actually getting rather ridiculous, this whole cat-and-mouse with Voldemort. Disapparating was only going to work for so long before a Death Eater finally worked up the brains to grab one of us and follow us back to our safe place.

No, this time I was completely positive that we had to fight, and we had to fight hard.

***

Except, I realized the next day, except that Alice was pregnant, maybe recovering from an abortion, and Frank would be so sure to protect her in what was sure to be a subpar state either way that they'd be almost a liability. And today, James was sporting what looked like a bad back; after skipping the first half of the day's classes, he'd reappeared for Charms, barely able to stand and not moving at all once he was sitting down. He'd also refused to meet my eyes (though maybe that was because he didn't seem to be able to move them from his lap).

And my body, though exhausted, once again found itself unable to sleep. My insides were all twisted up together, and it physically hurt sometimes, if I sat down too quickly turned around too sharply. I half thought I was coming down with something, but deep inside I knew that it was the combination of sleep deprivation and stress, finally attacking my body from the outside in.

I lay back on my bed that evening, staring up at the four poster above me and trying to decide if I had the energy to skip patrols. In the end, I figured it was pointless to skip them, especially as James hadn't gone the night before and looked too in pain to go tonight.

"Don't worry about patrols," I mumbled as I left. "You look like shit."

He didn't reply except for a hum that sounded a little bit like "Thank you," and I yawned as I shut the door to the common room behind me.

Being outside the room was like being able to breathe again. The tension was, for the most part, gone. I was in the Hogwarts hallways, and I felt strangely invincible. There was nothing, I felt, that I could not handle. Not here, anyway. Not in this school, within these walls, under Dumbledore's watchful eye where the Death Eaters were always careful.

I wandered almost aimlessly, arranging my face into some semblance of authority, hoping it would scare off any first or second years who were out after curfew. But the hallways were all as empty as they ever got, except for a few exhausted-looking fifth years, on their ways back to their dormitories after late nights studying for the OWLs that would come at the beginning of the next term.

It wasn't until I was ready to just go to bed that I saw him, curled up in a ball and whimpering.

"Benjy?" I said, because I was fairly certain that was who it was – a Gryffindor fourth year, sandy blond hair and light brown eyes. He'd been infatuated with Marlene during his first year. He looked slightly dazed now, and I had to wonder if the person who'd beaten him so hard had been clever enough to perform a memory charm.

He coughed, but only blood came out of his mouth, and I wanted to vomit. "Are you alright?" I asked, even though I knew it was a stupid question.

"Okay," I said. "Alright.  _Wingardium leviosa_!"

His body hovered a few inches above the ground, and I floated him into the hospital wing.

"What is it?" Madam Pomfrey asked, coming out of her office. I wondered if she slept there. Or if she slept at all. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

She saw him then, and her eyes widened. "What's this? What's happened?"

"I – I'm not sure," I admitted. "I was on patrols and I found him like this."

She sighed. "Well, I'll have to take care of this." She looked around at me. "Be a dear and put on the kettle, Evans, I'll need some tea to get through the night."

I did so obediently, boiling water for her with a tap of my wand and making her a cup of tea as quickly as possible.

"Thank you," she said. "Dumbledore should be here any minute, I've just sent word."

As if on cue, Dumbledore swept in, regal as ever but a little more brittle, as if he were at the end of his fuse.

"He's been Confunded," Dumbledore murmured, brushing a finger over one of Benjy's eyelids, examining his eye. "Miss Evans, where did you say you'd found him?"

"In a hallway on the fourth floor."

He frowns. "I wonder..."

"Professor, it's because he's Muggle-born, isn't it," I said, and I was unable to stop my voice from shaking.

Dumbledore looked over at me calculatingly. "Perhaps."

"Don't be scared, dear," Pomfrey said, completely misinterpreting the shaking in my voice.

"I think you should go to bed," Dumbledore said. "After all, we can't have our Head Girl falling asleep during class, now can we?"

I understood that this was his way of dismissing me, and I nodded. "Goodnight," I said, nodding to them. Pomfrey smiled kindly at me, then went back to her office. We could hear her bustling about. I stood and started to leave.

"It is imperative that you speak of this to no one but those you can trust," Dumbledore said suddenly, urgently, hand flicking forward to grip my shoulder. Then, "You understand that this is probably just a random act of hateful violence. Goodnight."

***

I did not sleep that night. I snuck into the library instead and spent hours researching hate crimes on Muggles and Muggle-borns, from Grindlewald's massive genocide to the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. I was petrified that something of the sort could happen here again. I was determined to do anything in my power to stop it.

The next few days, all I could do was dream about killing Voldemort. It was an all-consuming hatred. I kept seeing the bleeding bodies of my parents, James's parents, Alice's unborn child, Benjy Fenwick, flickering behind my eyelids. I had never felt such rage.

***

"I've decided to keep it," Alice whispered to me at the Quidditch game. "I've decided to keep  _her_. I'm telling Frank tonight, when we get back from the mission. At James's party."

We cheered with the other Gryffindors as James scored neatly, and I hugged her tightly. "In that case, congratulations! What made you change your mind?"

"I realized it'd be playing into his hands, giving her up. Giving birth to a beautiful child in this war is pure defiance. You were right. I can change the ratio of life to death. She deserves to live in defiance to him."

And it was there, again, the fire. The thought of Alice regaining all the weight she'd lost since the start of the war, the healthy glow returned to her cheeks, the future generation she carried, gave me a newfound burning desire to emerge from the rubble triumphant, or at least alive, with my friends, so that instead of being lost as we were now, we would be happy. There was nothing I wanted more.

The new fire inside of me burned more brightly. I would not allow my best friend to bring a child into a world where Voldemort murdered for fun. I beat him in my mind's eye; I was determined to stop him for the baby girl whose birth I was now delightedly anticipating, even if I died in the attempt.

***

Gryffindor won, and James was still in his filthy Quidditch robes when he got to our common room.

"Haven't had time to change yet," he said. "Where are Frank and Alice?"

"Getting us some Polyjuice," I replied. "You're not going to shower?"

"Why? Do I smell?"

"Just a bit."

James laughed, and it was so lighthearted despite what we both knew awaited us in Hogsmeade. He was very clearly still high off the win, and perhaps off his birthday, and his momentary unadulterated joy was contagious. I laughed, too, and then murmured, "Happy birthday," and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

To my surprise, he returned the kiss, though did not deepen it. His hand was reassuringly warm on my arm, and his mouth was soft and his lips tasted faintly of sweat.

He pulled away too quickly, looked away again, and said, "Thank you." Then he looked back at me, frowned a little bit. "We went too quickly. We didn't give each other enough time to trust one another. That was my fault. I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to apologize. It was my fault. All of it."

"I know. Which is why I can't accept your apology."

He looked away from me again, waved his wand over himself, cleaning away most of the grime.

"I'll have your back if you have mine," he said. He still wasn't looking at me. I understood, suddenly, that this was his way of making a deal – let's stop being lovers and start being equals, battle buddies, soldiers.

"Naturally," I said.

He looked me squarely in the eye, then, and it caught me so off guard that I blinked, hard, and he shook my hand firmly.

"We've got it!" Frank called from the portrait hole, holding out several flasks and shutting the door firmly behind himself and Alice. "One for each of us. Two hours' worth. Let's go."

We snuck into Honeydukes through some secret passage that only James knew how to find, all four of us stuffed under his Invisibility Clock with our legs Disillusioned until we were safely in the passageway.

"Here," Frank said, handing each of us a flask. "If I've given you the wrong gender, please be kind and pretend I haven't."

"Who are we supposed to be?" James asked, wrinkling his nose at his violently green potion.

"We've all just got hairs from a Muggle village, so no one will recognize us one way or another," Frank said. "But with some charming on our clothes to make us look wealthier, and some interesting accents – you two be Irish, we'll be Welsh-we should be able to convince just about anyone of anything."

James nodded grimly, then twisted the cap off his flask. "Cheers," he said, tilting his head back and downing it all at once.

I turned away, not wanting to watch the grotesque transformation, and drank.

James eyed my new face. "You should look more snobby or something. And we all look too shabby to be here."

He was still wearing his Quidditch robes. It was probably not appropriate to laugh.

"You're right," Alice said. "Here, I'll do you, Lily."

She pointed her wand at me, jabbed it forward in the air like she was stabbing something, and watched as my new robes fell against me-they were a deep shade of green, very beautiful and very regal. I was certain that, had they been real, they would be ridiculously and unmanageably expensive.

"Come on," James said a few minutes later, when we were all fully clothed in our new rich-people clothes, tugging me back under the Cloak and holding it up for Frank and Alice.

"This is a terrible idea," I hissed.

"It's only until we get to Diagon Alley," Frank whispered.

He held a hand out to me, then, and one to Alice, and James's fingers wrapped around my other hand. We turned, and it was so synchronized that I almost wanted to laugh. There was the familiar tightening of air, and then it was cold, suddenly.

"Come on," James whispered, still holding my hand as he led us into a dark corner between two shops and, once we were sufficiently concealed, pulled off the Cloak.

We separated from Frank and Alice, and pretended to be perfectly normal former Slytherins, pure-bloods, on vacation in London. James was holding my hand loosely. It felt like the performance I knew it was, and that made my insides hurt.

The sun was still high in the sky, but in my thin robes, I was cold; the ground still had leftover winter ice on it, and the air was still dry and harsh against my skin.

"Silly of us to forget cloaks," James said, in a really ridiculous Irish accent.

"Yeah, it's...cold," I said, wanting to laugh at my lack of knowledge of Irish slang. We walked absently, glancing at shops and trying to feign interest.

As we approached Borgin & Burkes, we finally encountered another human being, his hair dark and short. He turned toward us, and his face was pale and twisted and long-and vaguely familiar. But where had I seen him before? The  _Prophet_? Hogwarts?

James's grip tightened on my hand and he opened his mouth, babbling something incoherent in his terrible Irish accent. I laughed, but it was forced.

"Hello sir, madam," the man said, smiling smoothly at us. "I'm in charge of security here. Whereabouts in London are you from?"

"We're not from London," James said. "We're from, er-Dublin."

"Ah, on vacation, I see! Well, it's hardly the time to be visiting Knockturn Alley. It's a bit more lively in the evenings after everyone has left work."

"Yeah, we like quiet," I said, smiling toothily. James's fingers around mine were so tight that my fingers felt numb.

"Yeah, I can understand that," the man said. "It's why I prefer the morning shifts! No filthy Mudbloods, wandering in here from Diagon Alley."

He watched us, an eyebrow slightly raised, and I understood: this was a test.

James opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off with a tinkling laugh that sounded entirely unlike me. "Oh, yes," I said. "I'd do the same. Stupid creatures, Mudbloods."

I felt like my whole hand was throbbing, James was holding it so tight. He nodded beside me, laughing in a would-be light manner.

"Indeed," the man said. "What did you say your surname was?"

"Keegan," I replied, searching wildly for an Irish-sounding name.

"Perhaps you knew my father?" James said. "Head of the Department of Magical Security in his day."

"Ah, yes, before that meddling Bones," the man said. "I remember him...strict old man. Was he like that at home?"

"Yeah, but he was easy to manipulate. A blood traitor, too. My mother left him for it. Pity she didn't take me with her."

James's voice was nonchalant, and I wanted to laugh at his deception. Giving the man the completely wrong idea was brilliant, really. Anything that would separate the Keegans from the Potters was completely fine by me.

"A pity indeed," the man said. "Well, enjoy your day." He smiled, and the way it twisted his face made him look even less human than he had before. I was suddenly terrified, and smiled back quickly before gripping James tightly and tugging him in a different direction.

"So there are more people around at night," he mumbled. "Interesting. We know not to have Order members here then..."

"But that was obvious," I said. "Of course they'd flock around at night-that's what Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and all of bloody London are like."

We were still speaking primarily in our fake Irish accents, and they were so amusing, and we had gotten away so easily, that I laughed out loud.

But from behind us came a shriek, and my laughter died in my throat. James and I whirled around (again, the synchronization surprised me), and before I'd even fully registered what was going on, I was shouting, " _STUPEFY_!" at the top of my lungs.

The spell knocked a masked Death Eater into another; the conscious one's mask slipped off, and he looked shockingly familiar. I was fairly certain he was a fifth year at Hogwarts. To his left were Alice and Frank, their disguises gone; Alice looked on the verge of vomiting, and I wondered how she was faring.

I did not have much time to feel unsettled, however; even as I looked back up, a masked Death Eater's bright red spell hit Frank square in the stomach, causing him to double over, coughing. I tried to ignore the blood coming out of his mouth, slashing my wand through the air toward the Death Eater, whose wand was now pointed at me.

"Don't kill them!" another Death Eater said. "The Dark Lord wants them all alive!"

"Very well," said the Death Eater who had just hit Frank; I was positive it was Bellatrix Lestrange under that mask, wand still aimed at me. "That doesn't mean we can't have a little fun-"

" _Expelliarmus_!" I shouted, almost instinctively. Bellatrix laughed.

"Really? Disarming me? You think that's going to save you?"

" _Stupefy_!" I yelled, but she, laughingly, dodged.

"Isn't that nice," she said. "Bringing all your friends here for me to round up...you're like sheep, the lot of you."

I slashed my wand through the air again, sending flames toward her. For the first time, she looked scared – but quickly recovered even as the fire licked at her fingers.

"The wittle Mudblood knows how to fight," Bellatrix said mockingly, and she was just beginning to get annoying when she launched herself at me. She was surprisingly light-I'd expected someone with such a massive presence as hers to weigh much more.

She grabbed at her wand, but I would not let go; she twisted my wrist, aiming her wand at my chin.

"Let go," she hissed. "Let go or I kill you now."

"And let you kill my friends? Never."

"Avada Ked-" she began, but she was too late; I had already moved my wrist, and her wand was now aimed, rather uselessly, at a rock.

I brought my own wand back up as she tried to regain control and cried, " _Stupefy_!"

Her frozen face looked a little shocked, as if she really had not expected me to be able to survive her. I resisted the urge to laugh and rolled her off me, barely in time to lunge at another Death Eater's feet just as he aimed for James.

James looked down, a little surprised. "Thanks, Evans," he said, so carelessly that it almost broke my heart. But there was no time to dwell on his strangeness; I was too busy saving his life again, for at that moment a Death Eater had aimed for him, shouting, "SECTUMSEMPRA!" in a voice that was so familiar that I wanted to vomit.

The Death Eater fell to my Stunning Spell, however, and James had noticed just in time to drop to the ground, looking thankfully around at me. " _Thanks_ , Evans," he said, and then, "LILY!"

And then suddenly, I could not hold myself upright; the world around me was spinning, but as I blinked to try to clear my head, everything began to disappear into blackness. For a split second I thought I'd been transported somewhere else, but then an arm wrapped tightly around me, and the rest of my senses slowly returned: first the sounds of the fight were back, Frank shouting, then another wild, anguished shriek from Alice, and then there was nothing, and then –

"Lily, Lily – Lily-are you alright?"

"Where are we?" I pushed him away, looking around blindly. Everything was still dark; the depth of the darkness shocked me. I felt like I was in a room utterly devoid of light.

"The Shrieking Shack-Lily, why – "

"We have to go back. We have to go back  _right now_."

"What? Lily, your-your eyes are  _gone_."

I ignored the way I suddenly felt inhuman, as if my insides had escaped through my mouth. "No. We can't let Frank and Alice fight off the Death Eaters alone."

"They can take care of themselves, they're both amazing wizards-"

"NO!" I shouted, and the volume of my voice shocked even me. "Alice is  _pregnant_ , we have to go  _back_!"

"She's – what?" James's voice was suddenly hoarse. "Why didn't anyone-"

"Nobody knows except me. We have to go back."

"Okay," he said, finally relenting. "Okay, you're right, alright. Let's get you to Pomfrey, and then I'll get back-"

"No! I have to go, James  _let go of me_!"

But he did not let go of my arms. "You don't have  _eyes_ , Lily."

This registered, suddenly, and my fingers shot up, feeling the place just above the hollow dark circles that I was used to. But there they were: two soft, rubbery eyeballs. But they did not sting when I touched them; I could not force myself to blink.

"I do have eyes. They're just – "

"They look like black Snitches," he said. "You have to go to the Hospital Wing."

" _Alice_ ," I moaned, but even as I did, there was a loud crack.

Alice was crying – quietly, but she was crying, and Frank was saying, "We just got away, Edgar Bones had to help us," and then Edgar Bones was saying, "I've got to get back, my wife's just given birth!" and he sounded so ridiculously happy, and then Alice was saying, "Lily, what's wrong with your  _eyes_ ," and James croaked, "Alice – that blood-" and it was all too loud, all too much, and I felt dizzy.

"Whoa," Edgar Bones said, and I was certain that it was his arm and not James's that steadied me. "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing."

We all begged him to go on back home, promising that we could get back to Hogwarts on our own, and, still so giddy I was half-sure he was dancing, he said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. She's beautiful."

I did not know if he was talking about his wife or his new daughter, but it was beautiful nonetheless, and he squeezed my shoulder, wishing me all the best, before leaving with a loud crack.

Alice was still crying.

"Lily," she whispered, when she was close enough, guiding me from the left but also leaning heavily on my arm. "Lily, a Death Eater shot at my stomach."

"What?"

"Lily, I think she's gone."

And just like that, the fire went out.


	27. Twenty Six

Naturally, we went to Dumbledore's office first. I was still blind, but this did not seem to worry him; he seemed much more preoccupied with the limited intelligence we had obtained than with my newly black eyes or the blood James said was staining Alice's pants.

We reported quickly on our findings-the Death Eater whose name I learned was Dolohov, the guard they had, the way they only frequented Knockturn Alley at night.

Remus spoke for himself, Marly, and Peter, his voice clipped and perfectly even, like he was trying too hard at it. "The Slytherins were more conspicuous in their absence. Even Snape wasn't there."

"Snape was in Knockturn Alley," I said, suddenly remembering the painfully familiar voice. "He attacked James."

"The only Slytherins we did see were surprised to see Peter and I, especially with Marlene. They thought we'd be in Knockturn Alley with Snape and Nott and Avery."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. I wanted nothing more badly than to see the face he was making, the gears turning in his head.

"Professor," I blurted. "Why do you keep them here? They're clearly a danger to the school, and – "

"They're less destructive under my – ah-watchful eye than they would be in public," Dumbledore said, his tone careful.

"That's bollocks," James snarled, and I was shocked at his sudden hostility. "Benjy Fenwick is half-dead in the Hospital Wing and you're going to tell me that the Death Eaters in Slytherin house are harmless? No, that's bollocks."

"James – " I said, but Dumbledore cut me off.

"No, let him speak, Lily," he said. "After all, my opinion is but one of many."

"You're so full of it," James said. "You send us out on these missions, and we nearly get killed every time, and they're all  _useless_! I didn't sign up for the Order to be a spy, I signed up to make a  _difference_ , and we even haven't gotten any information that's not common sense, and we haven't caught anyone, it's all useless informational espionage, and you, you sit in your office, you bloody  _research_  – "

"Prongs," Sirius said quietly, and I could feel James shaking beside me, but he fell silent.

"All I'm saying," James said, after it was quiet in the office for a long moment, his voice shaking. "Is that there's a difference between dying for something real and getting yourself and all your friends murdered on a useless mission."

He moved away from me, and the space that he had occupied was now cold and empty; I wanted to follow, but Dumbledore dismissed us anyway.

"Miss Evans," he said. "I'll help lead you to the Hospital Wing. There's something I must discuss with you, in any case."

Once we were alone, his grip on my shoulder loosened. "Do you agree with James, Lily?" Dumbledore asked, but I was sure he already knew the answer.

"No," I replied. "I'm not even entirely sure James does-I think he's tired, and in pain, and he misses his parents, and he wants to feel like he's doing something, and he doesn't."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Yes, that's what I thought as well." He was momentarily silent, and then said, "He has to understand how imperative it is that we are  _sure_. Common sense is not enough to go on. Common sense is rendered useless in times of war."

And this I understood; like love, war twisted everything, put people on edge and put emotions into hyperdrive, polarized everything and made us simultaneously wish we were immortal and dead and buried. I had not yet decided if I wanted to live in a world where the potential for a wizard like Voldemort to rise to power existed or in a world where Voldemort had been eradicated. I was unsure that it was possible to have one without the other.

I could feel Dumbledore watching me. "It must be a blessing, being able to close one's eyes against all the pain in the world."

"No," I said, and it was my own momentary defiance to him. "It makes all the pain more real."

Dumbledore sighed, and his hand on my shoulder tightened again. "Let us hope Madam Pomfrey has a cure."

We entered the Hospital Wing together, Dumbledore still guiding me by the shoulder.

"Merlin," I heard Madam Pomfrey gasp. "What's happened to her eyes?"

I had never seen her lose her cool, and I thought it was only natural that I be unable to see her do so now; I wondered if she'd be able to fix me, and for the first time, I felt pure, unbridled panic. What if she wouldn't be able to make my vision come back? What if I was like this forever? What if I never got to see my friends' faces again, what if I never got to see my children's faces, what if-

"It looks more permanent than it is," Madam Pomfrey said, her cool fingers gripping my chin. "Can you feel this?" she asked, poking just beneath my eye with her wand.

"Yes," I said. "But it doesn't hurt."

"Hmm." She moved her wand up, until it was just barely touching what was now my eye. "And this?"

"Yes. But it doesn't hurt."

She tapped the top of my head lightly with her wand and handed me a potion. "Drink," she said, and I did. As always, it tasted disgusting-like ice. But when Pomfrey said, " _Lumos_ ," and pointed the light at my face, I could see it, peeking through the darkness.

"I can see!" I said, and my voice was hoarse, but when I looked away, there was only the vague suggestion of light-the unnatural magically powered bulbs on the ceiling cast a white glow over everything, breaking through the darkness all around me, but nothing else.

"Not completely," Pomfrey said, pressing another bottle into my hand. "Drink twice daily. It will make you drowsy. You should be able to see perfectly in two or three days. Be careful getting around until then."

She was silent for a moment, and then, "Allow me to ask – how did this happen?"

I did not say anything, unsure how much Dumbledore trusted her, but he made the decision for me. "She was cursed by a Death Eater," he said.

"Another attack in our school? Dumbledore, this is getting ridiculous, haven't you figured out who is respons-"

"It wasn't in our school," Dumbledore interrupted. "But you are correct, it is getting ridiculous."

I felt him shift beside me. "Mr. Fenwick, you have been listening, I trust?"

"I didn't mean to – to eavesdrop, Professor – "

"Do not preoccupy yourself with politeness," Dumbledore said, and I could practically  _hear_ his eyes twinkling. "I have found that eavesdropping often yields the most interesting information. For instance, did you know that Professor Sinistra's cat mated with Mrs. Norris? Fascinating, isn't it?"

Benjy laughed, clearly at ease now. "Yes, I heard everything. And – and, Professor," he said, his weak voice suddenly gaining strength even though he did not raise it. "I want to be able to help. I want to be able to defend myself, and everyone around me."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I hoped you might say that."

He let go of my shoulder, and I heard his footsteps walking lightly away from me. "Mr. Fenwick, you know, I trust, where the Head's common room is?"

"Yeah," Benjy said, sounding completely flabbergasted.

"You might find it useful to be there at around seven-thirty tomorrow evening," Dumbledore said. "Poppy, I trust you are ready to discharge him?"

"It-he's supposed to have  _bed rest_ , Dumbledore, not be running around on some suicide mission!"

"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, and I wondered if the dismissiveness in his voice was always there and I'd just never noticed it before, when I'd been too busy being amused or reassured by the twinkling of his eyes, or if it was something new, reserved especially for someone being just a little too overprotective of a boy who'd been beaten to within an inch of his life just days ago. The anger James had expressed just minutes ago was inside of me, suddenly, irrational and hot. "He's been here for four days. I'm sure he's well-rested enough to walk back to Gryffindor Tower."

Pomfrey sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine. Take this potion in the morning and come see me after you've had lunch."

Dumbledore dismissed us, and slowly the unfounded anger receded.

Benjy's pace, however, was equally slow, and as he led me by the hand to the common room, I could tell he was exhausted.

"What happened?" he asked. "I mean – when the Death Eater attacked you. Were you alone?"

"No. I was with James."

Benjy was silent for a moment. "Do you love him?" he asked. "I mean really love him. Because I've never loved someone, and-this is stupid."

"It's fine," I said. "And yes, I do. And – it will be well worth it when it comes."

Benjy's hand tightened around mine. "Feel better," he said, helping me climb into the portrait hole.

"You too," I murmured, listening to him walk away.

***

Alice was sobbing in the Gryffindor common room, but Frank was completely silent. When I'd gotten back, she had already told him, and he had been unable to sit near her since, his eyes cast downward, jaw twitching, as he spun his wand in his fingers over and over again.

I could no longer handle their devastation, their complete and utter desperation, and so, for once unashamed to act the coward, I squeezed Alice's hand and kissed her forehead, then felt my way to the door between the Gryffindor common room and my private one. I whispered the password and entered, feeling my way to the couch and trying not to crumple the parchment from our meeting with Dumbledore.

Unbidden, the image of Edgar Bones, his eyes bright and mouth unable to stop smiling even as he Stunned two Death Eaters, came floating into my head, though I had not seen him. Perhaps he'd been so happy that he'd made a mistake, allowed Alice to be attacked – but no. If that was anyone's fault, it was mine. I felt hollow. I had not been there.

The child Edgar'd had was his third. His happiness ached in the pit of my stomach, and I threw the stack of notes from our meeting with Dumbledore into the fireplace I could barely see, watched as its light shot upward. There were cinders in the pit of my stomach, not nearly as fierce as the fire from that morning. They felt defeated, sad, but there they were, still fighting. I tried not to sigh.

James sat down next to me, the springs in the couch creaking as he leaned forward. I could barely see him, but I knew it was him. He felt warm. He was not looking at me.

"How's your vision?" he asked, but he did not seem remotely interested. He was obviously very far away, and I could feel his weight inches away from me on the couch.

"Terrible. I can see light. That's basically it."

"What did Pomfrey say?"

"She says I just have to wait it out. It's started coming back in bits and pieces. She gave me a potion to speed up the process."

"I'm sorry." His voice sounded empty, but his words felt genuine.

This shocked me. "For what?"

"We made a deal to watch out for each other. And I didn't hold up my end of the bargain. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"You saved my arse at least twice. I wasn't fast enough to save your eyes. I'm sorry."

He was being too frank, and I was positive he wasn't looking at me.

"Happy birthday," I said quietly. His party had been canceled, Remus had reported, replaced by a cake at dinner and his friends handing him their gifts unceremoniously. Now that I thought about it, his bag looked new, clean dark leather unworn and untorn, still catching the dwindling light.

James laughed. It sounded dry. "Thanks."

"I have your gift," I said, but James shook his head.

"I don't want it."

"I don't care. Here-I can't get it, but-it's in the top drawer of my dresser, wrapped in green."

"Lily, you didn't have to-"

"I wanted to. Just – go and get it."

James sighed, but I felt him stand up, heard the door to my room open, and heard, vaguely, the sounds of my drawer opening and closing.

"What is it?" James asked.

"Open it and find out," I said.

I heard him rip the paper off and tried not to be a little sad at the destruction of my careful wrapping. What if he didn't like it? What if he thought the idea of a bracelet too girly, especially one that matched the one sitting on my nightstand? Both were dark red with gold sewn through, and it wasn't  _that_  girly, wasn't girly at all, was actually made for men, and the colors mostly for Gryffindor but also – and this was where it got a little corny, but it also sort of stood for our love, and I'd expected us to have made up by now, and –

"Merlin," James said. "It's – blimey, Lily."

"You like it?"

"I love it-thank you!"

I felt myself beaming, and James kissed my cheek before sitting back down on the couch. I felt him pull his legs up, his knee just brushing my thigh.

"You shouldn't have said what you said to Dumbledore," I said suddenly. "You know he's right."

"No, he's not," James said, and the joy in his voice was already gone. "He's too cautious with himself and his plans. The Death Eaters aren't cautious. They're practically trying to expose themselves. They beat up Benjy Fenwick for fun. They don't even  _hide_  in Knockturn Alley. We have to be a full-sized army. Dressing in black and hiding behind bushes only works in movies, Lily!"

"When have  _you_  ever seen a  _movie_?" I asked, more than a little amused.

"Hey, I spent some time in Muggle London," he replied, but his laughter was cut short by a sigh. "You know I was right."

"Maybe I agreed with you," I said. "Just a little. Maybe I hate getting Killing Curses thrown at me without any tangible purpose. But that doesn't mean we're not doing something worthwhile. Every bit of information we can squeeze of out of them is an advantage to us."

"Every one of us that is murdered by them is an advantage to  _them_ ," James said fiercely. "Edgar Bones just had a child. What if he's their next target? They feed off revenge, Lily. They  _live_  off it. What if they kill the baby? What if they kill  _him_?"

"They won't kill him," I said.

"You don't know that."

"Fine. If they kill him, there are Order members who will take care of his family."

"His family doesn't need the Order. It needs him."

"Why are we discussing this? He's still alive, alive and healthy." I reached out, groped blindly for his hand. "I don't want to not be with you anymore."

He squeezed my hand in reply but said nothing. I swallowed hard, turned my head back toward the fire.

"It would be easy to run away," I said. "We could abandon Hogwarts. Our friends could come. We would lose nothing."

But I knew he was right even before he spoke: "We would lose everything," he said. He let go of my hand, and it was like a bond had broken.

"Yes," I murmured, after he'd left. "We would lose everything."

I slept on the couch alone. When I woke up, the fire had gone out and I could not force myself to stop feeling empty.

***

The pain in my stomach was either a reflection of Alice's near constant tears the past few days or a sign that I too had lost something very dear. My eyesight was mostly back, though I still could not see the blackboards in my teachers' classrooms. Everything was smooth around the edges. I always felt like I was dreaming, and it made me think, bizarrely, of a Muggle film I'd seen about dreams once. I half expected to wake up any day now and have it be the beginning of the previous summer, before my mother had died and before I realized that the time to stop being a child had come. Maybe every terrible thing that had happened had just been a dream, a terrible nightmare; maybe I would wake up to the smell of my father's pancakes and my mother's coffee and it would be stiflingly hot in the kitchen but blissfully air conditioned in the rest of the house and Petunia would not be engaged to that terrible man and she would be able to hold a conversation with me despite her distrust of magic. Maybe I would wake up and James would still be pursuing me relentlessly, and maybe I would wake up and accept his proposals and we would be a normal couple with normal issues and I would not be neurotic and he would not be unforgiving and neither of us would be frightened. Maybe I would wake up and Marlene would not be a cigarette smoker and Alice would be happily dating Frank and they would still be whole and the world would still be beautiful.

I wanted it to be true so bad that I gripped my wand too tight, lost control, suddenly, and the table before me combusted. It smelled disgusting when it burned, not at all like the wood I'd thought it was made of, and I waited for the fire to go out of its own accord. It did not spread; the table did not even char. In fact, when I touched it, it was actually damp, as if the fire had just been a disguise for heavy rain.

"Smells like smoke," Sirius said, his voice floating through air.

"Yes, well," I said, because I was dizzy from the scent and from the magic that I was still trying desperately to force back into control.

"Anyway, I have a letter for you. Came in the mail. In the  _Muggle_  mail. Did you know we've got – er-a  _post_  address?" He snickered, holding out the crisp white envelope.

It was from my sister, and my stomach dropped at the shock; in all my time at Hogwarts, I'd barely received a "Happy birthday" from her, let alone an actual  _letter_  in an actual _envelope_  on which she'd paid actual  _postage_. The print was small, however, and I needed to magnify it with my wand in order for the black blur to make sense to me.

However, I was quickly disappointed by its contents; the message was short and read only, "Married Vernon last weekend. Honeymoon in Monaco. I am no longer an Evans."

She'd postponed her wedding. For our father's death? How considerate of her.

Nevertheless, I wanted to vomit.  _I am no longer an Evans_. How could she say that? After all our family had been through-and we were each other's only family now-or maybe that was it. She no longer wanted to be an Evans because I was the only other Evans left and she did not want to be associated with me.

"It really does smell foul," Sirius said. "Has Marly been here? She needs to quit, those'll kill her-did you know Muggles call them cancer sticks?"

"I did know that," I said. My voice sounded high-pitched, and I thought absurdly of the the time Petunia and I had sucked helium out of balloons. I'd been nearly eleven then. Everything had been about to change (whether for the better or for worse, I still could not figure out), but we had been small and innocent and had not known what death was or that magic was real. "How did you? Have you been reading up on Muggles lately?"

"I saw them in a newspaper," he said. "'Round Christmas? When we were in Muggle London with your sister?"

"Oh," I said, and found myself suddenly speechless that he had chosen precisely that memory to reference; I had never missed my sister quite as much as I did right now, her big eyes and pursed lips and stupid salmon coat and stupid blond hair. I hated her, I _hated_  her, evil, condescending, jealous-

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, and he actually sounded concerned.

I smiled in response, but my hands were shaking so hard that I dropped the letter. "I'm fine." My voice was shaking.

"Lily." Sirius sat down next to me. "What's wrong?"

I did not reply; Sirius frowned slightly, then reached down to grab the letter. I made no effort to stop him from reading it, and his eyebrow lifted before he let out a long sigh.

"What a bitch," he said, and it was enough; I was suddenly unable to control the flood of angry tears that I'd known were coming as soon as I'd finished the letter.

"Lily, don't – she's not worth it," Sirius said, almost desperately, and then, "I  _hate_  when girls cry." But he was clearly half-joking, because he pulled me to him, tucked me between his arm and chest. "My mother disowned me when I was put into Gryffindor. My father only kept me around because I was bigger than Regulus and he thought I'd be more likely to preserve the family name. Every family member who hasn't been burned off my family tree by my crazy mother is either insane or evil. The Potters took me in when I'd finally had enough and left. I practically lived there already, anyway. Mind you, I left my mark on the place-Permanent Sticking Charms all over the place, Muggle girls in bikinis, cars, motorbikes – you name it, if it was made for Muggle boys, I had it up on my walls."

"I never knew," I said, and imagined what it would have been like had my parents hated me the way Petunia did.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Sirius said. "I'm glad I wasn't like them. And I inherited the house, so all is well."

"She had a crush on you," I said. "Petunia."

Sirius laughed. "Everyone has a crush on me," he replied, completely seriously.

"Prick," I said, and he squeezed me before standing up.

"I'd better get going," he said. "Quidditch practice."

"Right," I said, and then, "Thanks. For telling me, I mean."

He paused on his way out, turned back to me, stared at me for a long moment. "James is such a bloody idiot."

"I know," I said. "But then, so am I."

He laughed again, letting the door slam behind him. I threw the envelope into the fire, watched the paper ignite, relished the way the flames licked at it.

And then there was nothing left to do, and after I took my last dose of Pomfrey's potion, I completely passed out anyway, only regaining consciousness when James woke me.

"Why does it smell like this place has been set on fire?" he asked.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, until his face (his hair was damp, I noticed, as if he had just showered, and his cheeks were rosy, eyes bright-he looked alive, and it was comforting) slowly slipped into focus.

"What time is it?" I asked, ignoring him.

"Did you set the room on fire?" He investigated the hearth, then the table. "There's ash on the floor."

Oops. I hadn't noticed that. "I set the table on fire."

"What? Why?"

"I – I lost control," I admitted, looking at the table. The table was still in perfect condition, but the floor around it was filthy with ash. Sirius hadn't noticed, either – or he had and had chosen not to say anything.

" _What_? How did that happen?"

"I don't know. It hasn't happened in years, not since-not since before I knew what I was."

James looked shocked. "I don't understand."

I did not know how to reply, so I said again, "What time is it?"

"Time for dinner. Come and eat."

I stood, yawning and stretching. James's eyes dropped, suddenly, to my mouth, then, almost instantly, sprang back up.

"Let's go," I said, pulling my hair back and straightening my robes, ignoring him.

"Lily, I-"

He moved forward, suddenly and quickly, and brushed his mouth against mine. "I just wanted to tell you, I – I'm sorry I wasn't there." He pulled me closer, held my head in his hand, and my insides felt like they'd disappeared completely, leaving behind a pleasantly warm feeling.

"Let's stop not being this," I said, and it didn't make sense, but James clearly understood, because he pulled me even closer, so close that it felt like we were fused together.

"Yes," he said, and even when he let go I could still feel his arm around my waist.


	28. Twenty Seven: From Alice Lawrence's Perspective

She was gone.

I kept replaying the scene over and over in my head, the Death Eater who'd taken aim at my stomach as if she'd known, as if she'd known there was a tiny life growing in there, as if she'd known that the easiest way to break me would be to kill my child. I'd never forget the woman's name. It burned in my head like coal or that poor Muggle woman's house. _Lestrange_.

My baby was gone, and I hadn't stopped bleeding and now a dull ache was present in my lower back and I could feel cramps beginning along my abdomen, and Frank was frowning at me.

"What did you mean?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" I was barely able to level my voice, to force myself to act normal.

"What did you mean by 'She's gone'?"

It hit me like a battering ram, then, that Frank, too, had lost a child; he hadn't even known that he was a father, and he'd lost a child. I was unable to make sound come out of my mouth.

"Alice?"

"I'm pregnant," I blurted, and then revised it. "I was pregnant."

"'Was'?" he asked, his voice suddenly as unsteady as mine. "What do you mean 'was'?"

I was crying. I could not make myself answer him.

"Did you – did you have an abortion?"

I shook my head, and his eyes fell to my pants, widening.

"Oh my god," he said, and he was so pale that I was certain he was going to pass out. "You're joking."

"It wouldn't be a very funny joke," I said, and Frank pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, looking suddenly unsteady.

"Oh my god," he said again, moving away from me, his hands still pressed to his eyes, moving away from me, sitting down beside the portrait hole and not looking at me, and I could feel the flood coming in through my eyes, flooding down my face, splashing onto the floor and drowning me.

Lily came in, then, walking a little unsteadily, Benjy Fenwick gripping her hand, helping her in, and the water kept filling up the room until I was just as blind as she was. I was drowning, drowning, drowning. I could no longer breathe.

"Alice," she said, somehow finding her way over to me, gripping me with both arms like a lifeguard, but it was useless, her gesture was useless, her lifeguarding was useless. It was all useless-I had already lost my life, was still bleeding to death, and Lily held me to her as if her love could save me now.

Marlene came over after Lily-inevitably – left, tucking me under her arm like a child. It was unbearable, the thought that only a few years from now I would have been in the same position with my own child, who I was sure would have been beautiful-Frank's intellectual face, my blond hair, Frank's big ears, my sharp nose, Frank's height, my full mouth. "I have to go," I said, tearing myself away from Marly and stumbling past Frank, not looking at him but sensing that he was not looking at me, out the portrait hole, somehow finding my way to Madam Pomfrey.

"Not you, too," she said, and then, undoubtedly seeing the blood I had not tried to hide, sighed. "When will you girls learn to keep track of your schedules? I've got a great potion for cramps, hold on – "

"It's not cramps," I said, and the voice sounded distorted, twisted, ugly. It was not the voice I was used to hearing come out of my mouth; it was the voice of a monster, someone who had lost the only thing keeping her human.

"Then what-oh dear." The realization hung heavy in her voice, and she smothered me, suddenly, with a body I had not thought large enough to be able to smother. Somehow, she, who barely knew me, was powerful enough to drag me back up to the surface, to force me to inhale and exhale oxygen once again despite the increasingly comfortable home that I had found at the bottom of the ocean.

She did not speak for a long moment, keeping me in her clutches like a teddy bear, but after a while she said, "Do you want to stay the night?"

I nodded. I could not see myself sleeping in my dormitory with all my friends, all teenagers who had never had to face the deaths of their own children. I wanted to bury myself here, under the sterile white sheets, forever.

"Let me get you some clean clothes."

Pomfrey disappeared momentarily, only to return with a steaming cup of tea and a hospital gown. She whispered, "Goodnight," and drew the curtain around me.

The tea almost immediately made me sleepy, which surprised me until I remembered that Pomfrey was probably better at making sleeping draughts than Slughorn, and then, without another thought, I sank into an undisturbed sleep.

*

"I have a potion for you," Madame Pomfrey said the morning before I was discharged. "Make sure to take it every morning when you wake up, or it might be difficult for you to-to try again."

"I don't want to try again," I found myself saying.

"I know. But you will. And if you have trouble sleeping, come see me and I will make you a sleeping draught."

I still did not believe her, but I took the bottle she handed me, tucked it into my pocket, and returned to the common room.

*

Frank could no longer look at me, and for days I hovered between suicidal and homicidal. I wanted to die and I wanted to take that woman with me. There was nothing I wanted more, suddenly, than to kill, to make her feel the pain she had made me feel, to hurt her the way she had hurt my child, to kill –

The thought poisoned me, surging through my veins in place of blood even as I found myself unable to stop weeping for what was surely the greatest loss anyone had ever suffered, or at least the greatest loss anyone at seventeen had had to suffer-my child, my beautiful baby girl, had been ripped from my insides before her first word, before fingernails, even, and was now fluttering somewhere above me, her tiny body gone and only the soul I was sure was massive in the heaven that I could no longer believe in, the poison, the poison, the poison – I wanted to kill, to kill, to kill. To hurt.

I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to blame Lily for leaving, Edgar Bones for not saving me fast enough, Dumbledore for assigning us the stupid useless mission in the first place, Bellatrix Lestrange for killing my child, Frank for not being careful enough to not make me fall in love with his child, Voldemort for wanting me dead or working for him, my parents for deciding to give birth to me, James for Disapparating, myself for not aborting in the first place (though that I had even considered ridding myself of my daughter was now twisting my stomach, guilt black and burning like bile in my throat, she would have been one more beautiful life, and now she was gone, was  _dead_ , never to grace me with what was sure to have been a beautiful smile), the sky for not hiding me, Knockturn Alley for being deserted except for those who would hurt me, life for being unfair. But nothing worked. I could barely even feel accusatory. I could only feel pain.

And this was a pain I was sure would never lessen in impact or magnitude, but as the days passed the all-over white hot knives faded; I was still unable to feel anything but pain accompanied by either red hot hatred or dark dark dark blue, but now the pain was bearable. I could see in color again, though the colors were dull and overcast. When Frank looked away from me this time, it stung instead of just blending into the rest of the pain.

*

I slept for too long every day. Madam Pomfrey grew worried as I returned to her night after night, asking for larger and larger doses of sleeping draughts. I did not want to kill myself anymore; now I just wanted to sink into blissful, thoughtless, dreamless sleep for as long as possible before being ripped rudely back to the surface, to consciousness.

Frank had not slept beside me since our daughter had died inside me. He barely looked at me anymore, except that one night he said, "Goodnight," and kissed the top of my head, held me to him and did not let go for a very long time.

"We will get through this together," he promised, but I could not believe him.

"It's been a week and you haven't so much as looked at me," I said, and my voice came out choked and angry.

Frank, to his credit, looked ashamed. "I know. I couldn't-I had to get my head in order first."

But I shook my head. I could barely look at him, I was so angry. All I wanted to do was down the tiny bottle sitting atop my dresser, to sink into sleepsleepsleep. I ripped away from Frank and slammed the door to the girls' dormitory behind me, poured the bottle down my throat wishing fervently that it was bigger, remembered the Firewhiskey from my birthday, found it, drank as much as I could before my throat burned too much, and capped the bottle, hid it back under clothing in my bottom drawer.

I fell asleep almost instantly.

*

My fingers were tinglingly numb, and my eyelids were heavy, and as the world shifted into focus I was nearly blinded by the sterile white light. One of my hands was currently in Frank's possession; the other was in Marly's. She was tracing circles on my palm as if she were reading it, gazing intently at its lines, an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. I opened my mouth, but found my throat too dry to make a sound. I moved my hand instead, and thus it was Marly who was alerted to my presence first, her mouth dropping open, cigarette falling into her lap, eyes flying to mine.

"Alice!" she gasped, the cigarette falling onto my sheets. "You're awake!"

Alice," Frank said, his voice scratchy, circles under his bloodshot eyes darker than ever, as if he had not slept in days.

"Alice!"

This time it was Madame Pomfrey, walking briskly toward us, who said my name. Her lips were pursed. "Mr. Longbottom, Miss McKinnon, I'm going to have to kindly ask you to leave." She spotted the cigarette. "Mc _Kinnon_ , how many times have I told you – "

Marly stood and left hastily, Frank reluctantly following.

"Now," Pomfrey said. "Kindly explain to me what happened."

"I drank my sleeping draught and fell asleep," I said, somewhat defensively.

" _Just_  your sleeping draught?"

"There may have been some Firewhiskey involved," I admitted, refusing to look at her. "I didn't realize it'd-I thought I'd just fall asleep."

"Well, you achieved that. You also did some very serious damage to your liver and managed to convince all of your friends that you're trying to do yourself in."

"I'm not," I said quickly. "I'm not, really. I wanted to, at-at first. But I just want to sleep now."

"I'm not sure how true that is," Pomfrey said. "But I'm not willing to take any chances. I've had your dormitory searched for and purged of alcohol. You are not to have any sleeping draughts or potions of any kind. And you are to visit me each evening at six for a check-in."

I thought wildly about how I would possibly be able to sleep now before the thought was choked out by the new lack of privacy I would have. The gaping hole inside of me quivered. I did not like this idea, and I told Pomfrey so.

"Yes, well, you should have considered that before you decided to pour a liter of Firewhiskey into your stomach along with my strongest sleeping potions," she said, sounding staunchly unsympathetic-but she relented, finally, pulling me suddenly close. "I know it's difficult, Alice," she said. "I know you think nobody understands the pain. But it will recede, eventually, and you'll remember joy again."

I didn't know if I believed her. In any case, I no longer wanted to talk. I turned away, faced the wall, deciding that if nothing else I was at least entitled to a few moments of solitude.

Pomfrey sighed and squeezed my shoulder. "I'll wake you in time for dinner," she said, and left.

*

"Alice?"

I did not expend the energy to turn toward the voice I knew was Frank's, but it didn't matter, as soon enough he was sitting on the edge of my bed anyway. I faced away from him, but I could feel his warmth against my back.

"I know you're awake."

"I don't want to talk."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I love you."

I hestitated. "I love you too," I said, twisting absently at the ring around my finger.

Frank climbed further up onto the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. He slipped under the clean sheet and slipped one arm under me and the other over me so that I was firmly tucked against him. "We can try again," Frank said, fingers fluttering against my wrists. "We'll try again, alright? And it will be the most beautiful child ever to live."

I closed my eyes against the tears threatening to flood them, but did not resist. Instead, I shrank into Frank's warmth. "Okay," I said softly, and Frank squeezed his hand around mine.


	29. Twenty Eight

A few weeks later, on the last school day before the end of the winter term, James had his arm around me, but something was not quite right. I could feel it in the stiffness, in the way his hand bumped just a scotch too lightly against my hip. He was not pulling me close, only holding me there as he shoveled porridge into his mouth. This would not typically alarm me-he was, naturally, much less attentive to me when he was eating than when we were, say, kissing in our common room.

But today was somehow different. He'd barely said, "Good morning," to me when we'd woken up, barely even pecked me on the cheek, hadn't held my hand til I'd taken his, and had not looked me in the eye once.

"What's wrong?" I asked, buttering my toast.

"Nothing," he said, unconvincingly, as Sirius and Peter took their seats across from us and Marlene, Dorcas, and Emmeline sat around them.

"Where're Alice and Frank?" James asked, clearly trying for a distraction.

"Still in bed," Emmeline said, giggling. "Ignored us when we tried to wake them. By the sounds of it, they had a rather late night."

I laughed, but turned back to James. "Genuinely, what's wrong?"

"We'll talk later," he said, grabbing a slice of toast off the stack, kissing me on the cheek, and standing abruptly. "I'll see you lot in class."

He threw his bag over his shoulder and strode purposefully from the Great Hall, not looking back.

"What's his problem?" I asked.

"He's quite stressed, you know," Peter said. "With, you know. Quidditch. And the Dark Lord. And all that."

Sirius nodded, again unconvincingly. "You know, the last match is coming up. He's got to plan accordingly so we win."

"Right," I said, still suspicious.

"Where's Remus?" Dorcas asked, pausing in the middle of cutting into her bacon and frowning.

"Bit ill," Sirius said. "Seems to have a nasty case of flu."

"Maybe James has caught it," Peter suggested.

"Right, maybe," Sirius said. "In any case, we're going to be late for Potions."

With that, he stood, also with a few pieces of toast, and tugged Peter behind him even though Peter took regular Potions as they made their way to Slughorn's dungeon.

"We'd better go too," I said, standing and following them to the classroom, Marlene and Emmeline by my side.

As it was the week of the full moon, we were preparing a batch of Curing Potion, which had a vaguely descriptive name but which, Slughorn explained, was specifically designed to ward off seasonal allergies.

"Evans," Snape said, walking over to me as I measured out the proper amount of dragon scale ("For strength," my copy of  _Advanced Potion-Making_  said, though I thought it might be more helpful to include orange peel), shoulders as hunched as usual.

"Are we back to calling one another by name, then?" I asked, not looking at him.

"Have you got any extra kneazle hair?" he asked, ignoring me.

"Right, so I'm not 'Mudblood' when you need something."

"Lupin's not here, I can't ask him," he said, shrugging. "Who else am I supposed to ask? Potter?"

I sighed. "Yes, Remus is ill again."

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "You mean you don't  _know_?" he asked, moving dangerously close to me under the pretense of reaching for my bag of materials. "Potter hasn't told you yet?"

"Told me what?" I said, a little surprised at the curtness of my voice.

" _Fascinating_ ," Snape said. "Of all people, you don't know. Think about it: what day is it today?"

"Monday."

"That's not what I meant."

"Here's your kneazle fur, Snape," I said. "Now go away."

He smirked, took the fur, and said, "You might want to ask him. It's awfully irresponsible of him, putting his lovely Lily Evans' life at risk like this." He paused. "And the orange peel is a nice touch. How very  _Muggle_  of you."

"She said  _leave_ , Snape," Calvin said from beside me. It was the first time he'd spoken in my direction for anything other than some unicorn tail hair in ages.

Snape complied this time, looking like a vampire hunched behind his cloak as he lurked dark alleyways.

"Thanks," I said, running a hand through my hair. Calvin's eyes followed my fingers, a slight frown twisting his mouth. "He was…"

I trailed off, unable to find anything else to say.

"Don't mention it," Calvin said, returning to his own potion and following the directions in his book, it looked, meticulously.

It was awkward, and Snape's words had been discomposing, but I tried to put both of them out of mind and chopped my orange rind up with my pulverized dragon scales.

"What was he up to?" James asked, coming over as Snape left and ignoring the glare Calvin shot him from beside me.

"Nothing important," I said. "Just being as vaguely cryptic and blatantly insulting as always."

"What'd he say?"

"Something about you being irresponsible," I replied. "As if that wasn't something we all knew already."

James snorted. "Because being a Voldemort supporter is completely and utterly _responsible_."

I laughed. Slughorn looked over at us and smiled indulgently, waddling over.

"Lily! I see you've taken the liberty to add some orange to your potion."

"Yeah, I thought it might – spruce things up a bit."

James backed away carefully, winking before sliding back into his seat beside Sirius and adding liberal amounts of dragon heartstring to his potion, an ingredient that I was fairly certain was not an ingredient at all.

"Brilliant on your part as always, Lily. You must explain your adjustments to me at the next Slug Club dinner. Mr. Whitby, what are you – "

BANG!

My first thought was that we were all about to be massacred by Death Eaters, but as I turned back toward James, wand already in hand and ready to attack, a Stunning Spell already in the back of my throat, I realized that it was he who had made the sound. He was sitting beside his potion, looking sheepish and running a hand nervously through his hair.

"Sorry," he said, using his other hand to put out the fire he'd started. "I, er. Was looking at the wrong page."

"Well, my dear boy, I do believe you might be on to something!" Slughorn said, then leaned toward me, lowered his voice conspiratorially, and added, "He's not really, but they do tell us to be supportive, you know."

He waddled off, leaving me chuckling bemusedly and Calvin sighing until I glared at him. He looked properly ashamed, then laughed, then fell silent again, turning away to chop up more ingredients. The silence was pregnant with words unspoken, until finally he turned back and said, "Remember when we broke up?"

How could I not? "Yeah."

"You offered your friendship."

"Right. And you refused it."

"I wasn't ready for it." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes meeting mine at last. "But I am now."

"Alright." Neither of us said anything for a moment as he stirred his potion dutifully with his wand and I swirled my cauldron by hand instead, watching it turn the proper shade of violet as Calvin's hissed a bit of grey smoke and faded to dark lavender.

"Bollocks," he said. "I think I forgot to add the orange."

He looked at me sheepishly, and I burst out laughing at his sudden acceptance of my rule-breaking Muggle-influenced ingredient. He grinned lopsidedly at me, then borrowed one of my oranges and ground some rind into his potion, watching with satisfaction as the color gradually darkened.

"Very nice," Slughorn said, swooping back around to examine our potions. "Full marks for both of you. Nice addition, Lily, I'll be sure to suggest it to Libatius…"

"You don't think he's long dead by now?" Calvin whispered beside me as Slughorn strolled to the next table over. "Bit loopy, isn't he, Slughorn?"

"A bit, yeah," I replied, suddenly relieved at the prospect of returning to our warm and not at all awkward potions classes together.

I gathered my supplies, cleaning my knives and strainers, and nodded to Calvin. "See you in Charms," I said, pulling the drawstrings on my bag and making my way over to my friends, who were sulkily emptying their cauldrons, all of which were full of pastel colored potions-except for Marlene, who, true to for, had a neon yellow goop bubbling slowly in her cauldron.

"How'd you do it?" Emmeline asked curiously, examining the sample I was holding. "I followed the directions to a T."

"Yes, well, the directions are a bit dated," I said. "I added some orange for vitality, or, you know, just vitamin C. And the stirring with your wand bit sort of contaminates it, it helps more if you take the cauldron by the handles and sort of – just sort of swirl it."

"Interesting," Emmeline said, frowning. "I saw Snape doing the same thing."

"Yes, I think he was copying me."

"Git," Sirius said, looking over at him distastefully. "He's like a bloody car, that one."

"Er…a car?"

"Yeah, you know. All…greasy. And dirty. What did he want, anyway?"

"I think he just wanted to insult me a bit," I said. "Called you lot irresponsible and dangerous."

Sirius laughed. "He knows us so well."

He did indeed – and, as Snape's words slipped back into my mind, I realized he might know them a bit better than I did. But not trusting James already cost me time with him, and I thought it might be rather stupid to repeat that argument, so I said nothing, at least for the time being. I figured he'd tell me eventually, whatever it was.

"So what were you talking about with Whitby?" James asked, a bit sulkily, as he wiped down his table.

"Nothing of interest," I replied. "Come on, we're going to be late for-hnng!"

He'd shifted, suddenly, moved closer to clamp his mouth over mine and kiss me deeply even though we were still in the classroom and, for all intents and purposes, still in _class_. I felt scandalized and pulled away. "James!"

"Sorry, it's just nice to be able to do that," he said, just as my eyes fell on Calvin, whose nose was now bright red in the way it always got when he was angry.

"James!" I said again, this time actually a bit annoyed.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his nose in my neck, and I should've known how territorial he was.

"Stop being a prick," I said, pulling away again and glaring at him. "You've already got me, alright? You don't have to bloody  _piss_  on me just to reinforce that."

He looked wounded, but I could hardly feel bad, as Calvin rushed by us, his head ducked so as not to meet any of our eyes.

I left then, flanked by Marly and Emmeline and resolutely not looking at James as we walked to Transfiguration, where McGonagall promptly put an end to my desire to cold shoulder my boyfriend with the instruction that we get on with transfiguring our pigeons into peacocks as a review exercise, something I had barely managed the first time around during sixth year and was quite certain I would not be able to do on my own this time.

As it was, however, asking Sirius for help almost worked, as he directed my arm movement and incantation use until the pigeon grew and changed color, but its tail remained resolutely grey.

"Maybe it's a female," he said dubiously, and I glowered at him.

"Oh, bugger off," James said, shoving Sirius away and ignoring the wounded gaze Sirius gave in return. "You've got to really focus your energy on its essence. The rest will come with that, but you've got to get its cockiness down first or you've just got a glorified crow."

"So I've just got to pretend the peacock acts like you, then," I said, prodding the bird again and mumbling the incantation, watching as-finally – its tail grew outward and expanded, its colors appearing before my eyes.

"Ouch," James said. "You're welcome."

"We'll talk later," I replied, still refusing to look at him as McGonagall passed by, pointing out that my poor peacock's legs were still pigeon sized and that they were about to snap in light of the new weight attached to them.

*

"I'm sorry?" James said, wrapping a scarf around his neck, presumably to guard against what remained of the winter wind. "No, really, I am," he insisted, as I refused to budge.

"You were a right prick," I replied. "A right jealous prick."

"Right, but when am I not?"

"I'm not your  _property_ , James. I'm allowed to have  _friends_."

"He just had to know-"

"What? That the boy I'd broken up with him for still had me?"

James looked suddenly properly ashamed. "You broke up with him for me?"

"Yes, well, I couldn't very well marry him when I was in love with someone else, now could I?"

"I suppose I hadn't thought of that."

"If I wanted to be with Calvin Whitby, I would  _be_  with Calvin Whitby."

"Right." James stared at his feet and I felt suddenly like an angry schoolteacher. "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Now, what are you getting dressed for? Surely you don't need to have Quidditch practice the last night of term?"

James laughed. "Surprise. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Not again," I said. "What're you up to?"

"Nothing of interest to you. Just trust me, alright?"

"Fine," I said sulkily, letting him kiss me before he left.

At the door, however, he stopped. "You're coming to my parents' house for the holiday, right?"

I looked back up at him, surprised. "What?"

"Bollocks, I forgot to tell you. Dumbledore's made my parents' house temporary headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, at least for April – he switches every month, you see-and we were going to all meet there, figure out where to go from here with Voldemort, that sort of thing. And it'd be nice, you know. To be away from here for a bit."

"At your parents' house?"

James didn't meet my eyes. "I know, but-I've got to go back there eventually, right?"

"Yeah. James-yeah."

He looked relieved, and flashed me a winning and completely insincere smile before shutting the portrait hole behind him.

I'd been planning on practicing my Transfiguration alone, but before I'd even finished packing for the holiday, Marlene, Dorcas, and Emmeline entered what had once been my private common room. I could hardly protest, however, as I'd grown bored of my own company and had found only a spider on which to practice. Arachnid Transfiguration, it turned out, was remarkably amusing compared to insect or even bird Transfiguration, and after turning the spider into increasingly terrifying creatures, I returned it to its original state and flicked it out a window.

"Alice and Frank are, erm, making up for lost time," Marly said as she entered, and though I thought it was a fairly insensitive way to put it, I laughed.

"Let's all do something, then," I suggested. "A girls night. After all, it's not often we're all together without the Marauders."

"Let's go out for a drink," Marly said. "Sirius showed me a few killer secret passages. There's one that'll take us straight through the Shrieking Shack."

"But isn't that haunted?" Dorcas asked.

"They're just ghosts," Emmeline said. "And anyway, it's not like you haven't been in there before."

"I don't know that it's actually haunted," I said, remembering something James had mentioned. "I think it might just be a rumor."

"We can go in through Honeydukes too, I think," Marly said, then, "I'll just borrow one of your scarves," before traipsing away and into my room to fetch it.

"Right, so," Marly said upon returning. "We have Lily with us, and she can just pretend to be patrolling as Head Girl if we get caught. So we've got to find our ways to that hideous statue of the one-eyed witch near Saggese's classroom, then tap its hump and say, erm, some incantation that I can't entirely – "

"Dissendium," Dorcas supplied, then blushed. "Not that I would know."

Emmeline looked at her suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Alright, everyone got your wands? Got your money? Let's go."

We marched onward toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, half expecting to be caught by a teacher at any moment. Instead, we encountered several prefects who eyed us suspiciously until I winked and said, "Keep out of this hallway for a bit, yeah?" and passed them.

"Dissendium," Marly said, rapping her wand on the ugly statue's hump when we finally reached it and climbing into the passage that entered, and I was struck by the sudden realization that I knew very little about Hogwarts even after spending seven years here.

"Go on, then," Emmeline said, pushing me forward lightly. I climbed in after Marlene.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked once all four of us were in the semi-darkness, the witch's hump closed and our wands lit.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, it's not like Hogsmeade is exactly  _safe_  at night."

"We can take care of ourselves."

"And anyway, there are four of us, and we're all quite good at Stunning Spells," Dorcas said. "If worse comes to worst, we can just hang around the Honeydukes basement and eat chocolate, right?"

"Right," I replied, following Marly down the tunnel, not really reassured.

Honeydukes was already closed, and the shop appeared empty, so we passed through it easily, as the door was unlocked from the inside.

Emmeline tested it as we exited. "It's locked from out here, though," she said.

"We can charm it open," Marly said. "Easy with our dear Head Girl here. Let's go get thoroughly sloshed."

"I should be giving all of us detention for this," I said, causing Emmeline to let out a bark of laughter.

"Because the Marauders have never snuck out to get drunk," she said. "And they had  _two_ supposedly responsible Hogwarts students with them."

"Come on, Lily," Dorcas said. "It'll be a good distraction."

She linked her arm with mine and led me to the Three Broomsticks. Hogsmeade, unsurprisingly, was mostly deserted; there was a single wandering couple near the hill that lid up to Madam Puddifoot's, as well as a rowdy group of men singing what sounded like Irish fight songs near the bar we were heading to.

Inside, the Three Broomsticks held a smattering of customers-in one corner, two Hogwarts sixth years appeared to have snuck out and were now snogging in the corner of a booth, Madam Rosmerta shooting them annoyed glances every few moments. Along the bar sat three older men loudly discussing what sounded like a drunken combination of politics and Quidditch.

"I'll get us drinks, then, shall I?" Dorcas said, and the rest of us made our way to a table for four.

Dorcas returned shortly with a bottle of Firewhiskey and four shot glasses.

"Thank you," Marly said, quite politely, before pouring us each equal measures of liquor and raising her glass. "Cheers, mates."

We downed it in sync, simultaneously wincing at the stinging in our throats.

"Have some more," Marly said, pouring us each another shot.

"To trusting our boyfriends," I said, never mind that only Marlene and I actually had them.

"To trusting our  _friends_ ," Emmeline amended, and though I saw Marly's front teeth descend upon her lip for a moment, she quickly drank as well.

It was quite some time-and a full bottle later-that Emmeline finally said, somewhat drunkenly, "Think it's time to go home, mates."

"Just a bit more, love, that's the ticket," Marly said, putting down her cigarette, reaching for the bottle, and drinking the last shot without pouring it into her glass. "Aye. Es delicioso, no? Podemos hacer cualquier queremos."

"What'd she say?" Emmeline (remarkably soberly) asked.

"Dunno, it's…French."

"Time to go home, I think."

"Let's take a bottle for the road, then, mates," Marlene said, waving at Rosmerta and beaming at her when she arrived. "Be a love and fetch us our slippers, dear," Marly said.

"She means another bottle to go, please," Emmeline said, smiling sweetly.

"Murp," I said in assent. "Here's some money."

I shoved a few crisp pound notes into Rosmerta's hand; she looked at them in bewilderment.

"Goodnight, girls," she said, tucking the bottle safely into Emmeline's bag.

We made our ways back to Honeydukes, though it took quite a lot of effort, as my legs felt like they were made of jelly and I was quite useless in assisting Emmeline and Marly, both of whom were supporting Dorcas, who was trying to spin around in circles and crying out in delight at the starry sky.

"It's locked," I said, turning the door handle.

"Yes, well, we knew that," Emmeline said. "Alohomora!"

The spell failed, leaving the four of us frowning at one another.

"'S'no matter," Marly said. "We can go in through the Shack."

"Where's the Shack, even?"

"I think it's this way," Emmeline said, turning around blindly and pointing in one direction. "Let's go."

"Are you quite sure?"

"'s go, Lil, you party pooper."

"I'm not a party popper," I replied, following the six-legged woman-monster that was already inching toward the outskirts of the village. Even as I walked, I felt, through the fog of alcohol, like I was being watched, though when I turned to look around I saw only a large black dog lurking too closely behind us.

"Shoo!" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "You're all dirty and flea-bitten, get away from us!"

The dog barked at me, but then bared its teeth in what looked remarkably like a grin.

"You  _guys_ , look!" I said. "This dog's  _smiling_  at me!"

"Belt up, Lily, you're going to attract the ghosts."

The dog bared its teeth at me again at that, then slunk into the shadows. At first I thought it had gone, but as we neared the Shack, it appeared in front of the door, barking loudly.

"Oh, go away," Marly said, shoving it with her foot and proceeding to send herself, Emmeline, and Dorcas to the ground. Dorcas promptly vomited at this, covering the stoop of the Shack in what looked like partially digested potatoes.

"Disgusting," I mumbled, moving up to help them stand. The dog did not budge.

"Bugger off," Emmeline said, slapping it on the arse and taking advantage of its momentary lapse in guardianship of the door to open it and get us into the Shack.

For the first time, I got a really good look at the Shack, and it became evident to me just as Marlene closed the door behind us that there was no way this place was haunted by _ghosts_. The beds were torn up, the walls had deep scratch marks in them, one window was entirely boarded up and surrounded in broken glass. There looked to be fresh blood on them, too, and I shuddered in a sudden foreign fear.

"Look, I think it's this way," Marlene said, half dragging Dorcas into another room. Emmeline and I followed, though she suddenly looked much more sober.

It was then that we heard a howl, almost immediately followed by the loud growl of the dog we'd seen before. We saw, by wandlight, the commanding figure of a fully grown werewolf behind attacked by the massive black dog from the village as an almost majestic looking deer pushed us toward a different door with his antlers. He gestured toward it with his head, waiting till we opened the door to push us further forward.

"Bloody hell," Marlene said, once we were safely in the tunnel. "What was th – "

But it turned out we were not so safe in the tunnel, as the wolf howled in our ears, his head and half his upper body pushing through the entrance, his mouth snapping rabidly at us even as the dog attacked him from behind. I screamed, and didn't stop until a rat ran up my arm and bit my hand, hard. It stunned me momentarily into silence, as the split second of very real pain grounded me back in reality, making me feel a million times more sober and awake than I had only moments ago.

"Run, run, run, run," Emmeline said, then repeated it, and though Dorcas was still staggering instead of really walking, we all charged forward, led by the plump rat until we reached the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow. The rat scampered forward, pushing on a knot in the tree until it stopped trying to murder us.

"Thank you, thank you thank you thank you," Marly mumbled at the rat, then pulled Dorcas behind her onto Hogwarts grounds. Emmeline and I followed, then the four of us collapsed on the grounds.

"What the  _sodding hell_  was that?" Emmeline snarled, sounding simultaneously terrified and angry. "What-a  _werewolf_? On  _school grounds_?"

"The Shrieking Shack's not school grounds," I said grimly. "Let's go back inside."

Dorcas looked much more sober now, and led us back to Gryffindor Tower with minimal interruptions, though I did stop to bark, "Ten points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and get a bloody  _room_  next time" at a pair of fifth years snogging in a corner as we passed.

"Let's just stay here," I suggested once we reached the Heads' common room. "We can finish off that second bottle and get beautifully pissed, then sleep on the Hogwarts Express to James's house."

"That sounds smashing," Dorcas said, shakily taking the bottle from Emmeline and drinking straight from the top (consequently becoming the first of the four of us to pass out).

"Lightweight," Marlene snorted, though her hands were shaking as she passed me the bottle.

"We're still alive," I said, and Marly laughed.

"I'll drink to that."

*

The sunlight that streamed through the curtains was blinding.

"Blub," I said, forcing myself up and immediately regretting it as my head spun. The urge to vomit rose in my throat, and I rushed to the bathroom before expelling the only thing that had been in my stomach – acid and firewhiskey. The previous night was a blur-I could vaguely remember the Whomping Willow, and a sense of bloodcurdling fear, and staggering back to Gryffindor Tower, but everything else was, for now at least, lost to alcohol. I kneeled on the floor, my head against the toilet, feeling utterly  _awful_ , before the other bodily function that seemed to be a permanent symptom of my hangovers set in and I leapt up to seat myself on the toilet, wishing more than anything that Sirius would show up with his magical hangover cure again.

Sure enough, when I returned to the main room, holding a freshly conjured bucket just in case, Peter was delivering doses of the potion to Dorcas and Emmeline, both of whom were awake and looking absolutely horrendous.

"Morning, Lily," Peter said. "You look like you had a rough night."

"Urgh," I agreed, taking the goblet he handed me and downing the potion in one gulp, grateful for the gradual disappearance of pain in my temples. I wanted nothing more than to sink bank into sleep, but Peter shook his head when I said this, causing me to notice the long, wide, freshly healed wound along the back of his neck. The scar flesh was still pink and stretched tight.

"What's that?" I asked.

"What? You can't go back to sleep, the Hogwarts Express is leaving in twenty minutes. Remus, Sirius, James, Frank, and Alice have already gone, but we thought you four might want a bit of extra sleep."

"Thanks, Peter," I said, then, "Wait, how did you know we were drunk last night?"

"When James came to bed, he saw you all passed out and thought you might need a nice perk up," Peter recited; it sounded like he'd memorized the line out of a book, and I raised an eyebrow to let him know that there was no way I was going to believe him.

"Let's just go," Emmeline said. "The house elves should've already taken our trunks, we can sleep on the train, come on."

She poked Marlene to wake her, then caught the bucket I tossed and slid it rapidly under Marlene's mouth, turning away in faint disgust as Marly puked.

"Disgusting," Emmeline said with vague distaste. "Peter?"

Peter handed her the goblet, which Marlene drank in one gulp before sinking back into sleep.

"Oh, wake up, you lazy cow," Emmeline said, quite irritably, poking Marly again until she sat up.

"Quit it, I'm up," she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her face.

When we finally reached the train, we had to walk all the way to the last compartment to find the Marauders, all of whom looked awful-Remus, presumably, because he was still recovering from his flu, while James and Sirius just looked tired and Peter was already pulling a blanket over his body and leaning against a window to sleep. Even now, a sense of vague unease followed me around, though I couldn't quite place it. The previous night was still a fog in my head, though Emmeline kept glancing nervously out the window as though she could remember something I couldn't.

"You look awful," James said, raising an arm so that I could tuck myself beneath it and pressing his mouth against my head.

"Thanks," I said. "So do you."

And he did – he winced when I pressed too hard into his side and he, too, had a fresh scar, though his was running along the side of his face and was fading rapidly.

"What were you four up to last night?" I asked.

"We, er," James said, glancing at Sirius, who was already half asleep tucked in between a sleeping Marlene and the window. "We just talked for a long time."

"So how did you get this?" I asked, reaching for his face and running my fingers over the scar.

"I, er. I fell."

"Right."

"Just trust me."

"I'm  _worried_  about you. Strange wounds, exhaustion…you have to admit I have good reason to be."

"We'll talk later," James whispered into my ear. "I promise. For now, let's just – can we just sleep?"

His promise sounded genuine, and anyway, he looked exhausted, so I let him shift until we were comfortable enough to fall asleep.

"And I can't wait to hear about your drunken antics, either," he said, grinning sleepily as my fingers raked through his hair.

"He must really like you," Remus mumbled, not meeting my eyes. "Wouldn't let anyone else do that to his hair."

"Yeah," I said. "I really like him too."


	30. Twenty Nine

It was difficult to be in James's house. With half of our group at home visiting family, it was almost unbearably quiet; the house seemed dejected, almost haunted. The room closest to the stairs was never opened, and I understood even before Sirius told me that it was Mr. and Mrs. Potter's bedroom. James always walked by it too quickly, and more than once I caught Sirius or Remus squeezing his shoulder as he did so.

But more than that, I found myself caught in the inevitable loneliness of being an orphan. With each trip Emmeline or Alice made to the Potters' living room came a plate of cookies, a pot of soup, and, once, an entire roast turkey. Alice's face looked healthy for the first time in weeks, and I was completely positive that it was from the influence of her parents. Remus kept leaving for long periods of time, only to return with a bulging bag of sweets, and even Dorcas brought some of her aunt's treacle tart. It struck me, quite often and quite suddenly, nearly every night, how alone I was in the world. No mother, no father…no grandparents, both my parents only children…all I had was Petunia, and she wanted nothing to do with me.

It made me feel cold despite the steadily brightening weather, alone despite being surrounded by friends, and utterly useless despite constantly having Order work to do. I'd never really gotten to say goodbye to my childhood home, to my parents, even to my sister. I didn't spend my nights crying, but instead sank into a deep sleep whenever I could find the chance. I got the feeling James was feeling almost exactly the same, though this was hardly comforting to me, as he never spoke of it.

In fact, the only time he even looked in the direction of his parents' bedroom was our first night at his house; as I brushed my teeth in the bathroom, I saw James enter his parents' bedroom, but when I made to follow him in, Sirius shook his head at me. Instead, we waited for James together, ignoring the stubbornly stiff features of his face when he finally came back out and leading him back to his room. He placed what he'd gotten out of his parents' bedroom-a book, perhaps a photo album-on his nightstand and sat down stiffly on the bed.

"James?"

"Prongs?"

"I'm fine," he said, beaming at us, but one of his eyebrows was twitching and his chin looked horribly wobbly. "Listen, Padfoot, Lily-could you-I think I left something downstairs, a boggart, you know, could you go and-have a look at it for me?"

Sirius and I nodded in unison and left the room, but neither of us went down the stairs. Instead, Sirius plopped himself down in front of the door and patted the spot next to him.

"You'd probably better be here for him when he comes out," he said. "I'm thinking a good bit of snogging is what he needs, and he'd likely prefer it from your dainty lips than mine."

"Your lips are hardly dainty, Sirius," I replied, and Sirius snorted but bit his lip as he looked back at the door.

"Will he be alright, d'you think?" he said. "I've never-Mr. and Mrs. Potter might as well have been my parents, but they-they  _weren't_ , you know?"

"Yeah," I said, and then we sat in silence until James finally opened the door.

*

"Lily?"

"Mmph?"

"Lily, you awake?"

"Not really."

"Lily-do you ever miss them?"

Silence.

"You know. Your parents."

"Every day."

"Me too."

"I know."

"Sorry I woke you."

"I love you."

"Goodnight."

*

Despite what seemed to be a sort of cloud of loneliness hanging over Godric's Hollow, members of the Order of the Phoenix were constantly swooping in, usually with dinner and building blueprints or old maps.

Dumbledore himself, however, made very few appearances, though on the third morning of the holiday, he Apparated right into James's kitchen.

"Hello, Lily," he said, beaming at me and sitting across from me at the table, where I had been dutifully working on a Transfiguration essay. He contemplated me for a moment as he positioned himself in the usual Dumbledore manner: elbows on the table, leaning slightly forward, fingertips pressed together, piercing blue eyes gazing steadily at whomever happened to be across from him-which, as it so happened, was currently me.

"Hello, Professor," I said. "How've you been?"

"I've been quite well, Miss Evans, and yourself?"

"Alright."

Dumbledore said nothing more, though his gaze was unflinching, and I grew increasingly uncomfortable until someone else finally came into the room.

"Ah, hello, professor," Remus said. "I'm afraid you're one of the earliest to this meeting-it's only me and Peter here so far." He didn't mention that the meeting wouldn't actually start for another...seven hours or so.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long," Dumbledore replied. "I expect the Hogwarts kitchens have prepared a lovely brunch, and I wouldn't want to insult our house elves by missing it. In any case, I think everyone I need is already here."

Even as he said it, Peter and James were entering the room; shortly after, the table was surrounded by the rest of us, all sitting in silence and waiting for Dumbledore to speak. He, meanwhile, seemed to have taken an interest in James, who was very intentionally not looking at him.

"By the end of this school year, the Order of the Phoenix will be nearly doubled in size," Dumbledore said. "All of you will be able to help in the fight against Lord Voldemort with much more regularity than you have thus far, and many of you will be able to use your future jobs to your advantage. I believe this puts us at a greater advantage than ever-but you must understand that Voldemort is not without followers at Hogwarts. He, too, will have strengthened forces upon the end of this school year. But if we continue to wait, I fear he may reach an unbeatable level of strength. I believe we have enough strength and enough talent to be able to take him on, if not-er-take him  _down_." He paused and looked around the table at us as if to make sure we were taking everything in, then continued. "We have two objectives for the next term: we must discover where Voldemort is hiding, and we must find a supporter on the inside. At least one of the Dark Lord's followers must not want to follow him so much as they feel the need to-and it is our job to find that follower. Now, if I may have a word with Peter and Remus in private…?" Dumbledore looked around at the rest of us expectantly; we rose almost in unison and left the room.

"So Dumbledore reckons we can take on Voldemort," Sirius said as soon as we were out of earshot, grinning wolfishly. "I'd like to try. I think I could win in a fair fight."

"Doubtful," Marlene said. "Do you even know how to fight fair? You'd probably just tackle him and pull his hair."

"What hair?"

"I didn't mean on his head. Not that you'd know about that."

"Disgusting."

"Stop it," James said. "I'm trying to-I can't  _hear_." He had his ear pressed against the door and was frowning. "I wish we could move our ears around, you know, like, throw them under doors and into corners of rooms and things…I can't hear anything, this is useless." He gave up, standing up straight and dusting himself off. "Whatever, Wormtail'll tell us…"

"I know a spell-" I started, but as if on cue, Peter opened the door, looking characteristically pale and terrified. "Dumbledore's about to go," he said. "He said to tell you all-er-goodbye? And to tell the rest of the Order to figure out where You-Know-Who's hiding, whatever the cost."

Remus followed shortly after, face carefully arranged into a disturbing calmness, though a dry sort of smile tugged at his mouth.

"So?" Sirius demanded, so forcefully that I almost expected him to put his hands on his hips.

Peter shrugged; Remus said, "We're going to infiltrate Voldemort's forces."

There was the sound of something crashing; when I turned my head, I noticed it was Dorcas, who had just Apparated into the room and had dropped the plate of treacle tart she'd been holding; Sirius looked at it mournfully.

"You're going to  _what_?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore reckons me and Moony are the best for the job," said Peter, looking somewhat proud despite himself.

"So you're going to-what? Just walk into the next Death Eater meeting and announce yourselves? 'Hello, I'm Peter, and I'm here to learn all your secrets!'"

"Don't be stupid," Peter mumbled, but Dorcas's face was flushed.

"And  _you_ , Remus-just going to sneak up on You-Know-Who? Perhaps try and jinx him? Feed him some Veritaserum?"

"Calm down, Dorcas," Remus said. "It's just-we're going to feel around a bit. See what's going on, how many supporters he's gathered…that sort of thing."

But it was clear he was hiding something; he looked a bit peaky, the way he always did when he was ill, and a little bit ashamed. But Dorcas bought it, and when Remus squeezed her hand, she didn't seem to protest.

*

"LIly?"

The knock and subsequent call came after lunch that day, when I was sitting in my room with the papers from the last meeting spread before me, trying to find a pattern in Voldemort's locations before the next one. I looked up to see Remus, looking characteristically haggard and warm.

"Remus," I said, moving a map so that he could sit down and watching as my carefully arranged papers slid amongst themselves toward the dip he'd made in the bed.

"We need to talk."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well, no, that's not true, quite a lot is wrong, actually," Remus said, frowning and not looking directly at me. "For one thing, Voldemort. And for another-I transform into a great beast every full moon."

"What?"

"I'm a werewolf, Lily."

"What?" I said again; but his words, at first shocking, were now falling into place among the other pieces of the puzzle in my mind-his paleness around every full moon, his disappearances due to flu or some other evidently made up ailment, the torn up couches in the Shrieking Shack, and, of course, the wolf that had nearly killed me only days ago.

"I'm a werewolf. I have been since before I started school. They put the Whomping Willow there for me-so I can transform in the Shack and be relatively undisturbed. That's why Dumbledore wants me to spy on Voldemort. He thinks I can gain the trust of other werewolves, see if they're leaning toward supporting Voldemort, try and get secrets from them-but I understand if you want to leave," he said, though his voice was shaking just slightly. "I nearly killed the four of you the other night, I nearly-look, I understand if you don't feel safe around me anymore. I've gotten that reaction before, it's not-"

He was muffled, suddenly, by a hand pressed against his mouth, forcing him to stop talking. The hand was my own, of course, and I was frowning.

"I don't feel unsafe around you, honestly, Remus, you'd think I'd never had any vaguely dangerous friends before. And it's not like it's the full moon year-round anyway, right?"

Remus looked relieved, years seeming to lift away from his face. "Sirius didn't want to tell you, but I thought it might be important. Er, that is, he didn't want to reveal my secret."

"Thank you for telling me," I said, cocking my head to the side. "Though I'd have liked to know sooner. I  _dated_  you for a bit, you  _wanker_. You couldn't have told me then?"

"We were fourteen," Remus said dryly. "I hardly think you were ever in any danger of being-er- _bitten_."

"So is that where Sirius, Peter, and James go every full moon, then? You're all werewolves, is that it? That's what Snape meant?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We couldn't have  _four_ werewolves running around Hogwarts, it'd be dangerous."

His voice was still dry, but his eyes were mischievous, and he squeezed my arm in what felt like a "thank you" and left the room, allowing me to finally let my jaw drop in complete shock. A werewolf-at  _Hogwarts_ , running around every full moon near Hogsmeade, where there were hundreds of wizards to bite…and near the school, where first years wandered about after hours and the Marauders and those like them discovered secret passages and tried to escape the school-but he'd never bitten anyone. It was marvelous, really, that he'd never hurt anyone, at least not enough for it to have traveled the school, and  _everything_  traveled the school. It struck me that the fear of this happening must have absolutely  _tortured_ Remus-no wonder he'd been so terrified of making friends first year.

So shocked was I that it took me several moments to realize that he still hadn't told me what the other three Marauders got up to every full moon.

I contemplated it for a moment, but the only explanation I could come up with was that they all hid in the Shrieking Shack, armed with some anti-werewolf bite spell that kept them relatively safe from their werewolf best friend, perhaps playing a game of Exploding Snap or Gobstones while Remus feasted on a raw steak.

Even as I dismissed this idea as being too far fetched (who ever heard of a spell that could repel werewolf bites?), something completely unrelated caught my eye-the black leather book, with the script "Familia Potter: Tantum Pares Aeque Pure" in gold across the front, was still sitting on James's nightstand.

I knew I shouldn't have opened it; James had not wanted to talk about his family before, and he was unlikely to want to do so now. But the leather-bound album was too tempting to resist.

The first pages featured only portraits; wizards beamed at me from the pages, some with familiar-looking noses or what seemed to be a genetic predisposition for awful vision. One wizard winked, and I was immediately reassured he was a Potter, despite his extremely narrow face and almost neat hair.

The door opened again, and I dropped the book, petrified. It landed unhelpfully in my lap; I looked up, one hand ready to raise my wand, the other clutching at the bed.

"James," I said, moving both my hands to cover the album. "Hi."

"What's that?" he said, raising an eyebrow and moving toward me. He stopped dead in his tracks when he recognized it, eyes suddenly hooded, mouth carefully set in a straight line. "Oh."

It was silent for a moment, and then-"Listen, I'm sorry, I just-I wanted to see some of your family, I've never met any of them, you know, and it would have been nice-I mean, you met my dad the one time, but we never really got to know each other's families, and I just-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interfered."

"No, it's-it's alright, I just. I didn't really want to talk about them."

"Oh."

"I-it's just. They're all dead, you see. It's just me now. I'm the only Potter left."

"Oh."

James sighed and came over to me, taking the book and sitting on the bed across from me.

"That's my great-grandfather, Ignotus," James said, pointing at the wizard who'd just winked at me. "Or, like, great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great, or something. His last name wasn't Potter, though, that didn't come along until the seventeenth century, and he died just before the fourteenth." He gestured to the dates beneath his name: 1214 - 1291. "His brothers lived much shorter lives, supposedly died gruesome deaths-one killed by a thief, the other by his own hand after the woman he loved died." James paused. "So only Ignotus had kids, and we think we must all be direct descendants of his. Of course, this is all sort of legend-we haven't got their diaries or anything, and it's been seven hundred years." He turned the pages slowly, stopping every now and then to point out a witch or wizard of note-"She was my great aunt Rose, married some famed Muggle doctor and helped him cure hundreds of patients" and "My great-great-great-well, you get the point-uncle, he was a right headcase; married into the Black family, actually, but he's so far removed from my bloodline that my relationship with Sirius couldn't possibly be considered incest" and "Oh,  _she_ was awful, married a Muggle baiter and helped him trick a bunch of them into drowning themselves" and "But my great-great-great-et cetera granddad was really special, helped draft some of the most beneficial pro-Muggle legislation of all time. Bit sad, really, when one of his sons went to Azkaban for torturing Muggle-borns. He died there, never had any kids. And then there was great uncle John, he argued with his parents until they let him go abroad for school, went to Durmstrang with Grindelwald…was one of his supporters for a bit, too, til he realized all old Gellert wanted to do was use him as a spy in the British Ministry of Magic. He was the last of the really awful Potters as far as I know, but there was one a decade or two ago that got Sorted into Slytherin. We don't really talk about him."

James stopped talking quite suddenly upon turning the page, and I immediately realized why: the man looking up at me from the photograph looked quite like James and his date of death was only a few years before.

"That's my granddad," James said finally. "Taught me how to play Quidditch. Honored member of the Wizengamot. Killed, undoubtedly, because he was in charge of putting warrants out for the arrests of some of Voldemort's greatest supporters. He made it impossible for Igor Karkaroff to continue to teach, even accused some Hogwarts students of being Voldemort followers-Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, they were only seventeen or eighteen then. And of course," James said bitterly, pointing to a woman on the opposite page whose smile was so wide I almost wanted to cry, "they didn't only want him dead…they wanted him to suffer. So  _she_ died first. My gran, my dad's mum-my granddad found her body mangled, twisted in their bed one night when he got home from the Ministry, and then he was found dead a few days later."

"What about your mum's parents?" I asked, hoping for a happier tale.

"My mum's mum died before I was born, but my grandfather lived long enough to teach me a few charms that drove my parents insane before he died, too."

"I'm sorry."

James closed the book, springing up and beaming at me. "Not your fault! I'm off to play Quidditch, Sirius says he's got some new move he wants to show me before the Cup final. Want to join us?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I think I'm going to take a nap," I said. "But you go on."

He shrugged and walked out of the room, leaving me to curl up on the bed alone, unable, once again, to fall asleep.

*

Later that night, James opened a bottle of firewhiskey after dinner.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked automatically, paying more attention to a pattern I'd just noticed in the last few spottings of Voldemort-always in very isolated spots, and often alone, but why would he be alone if he had so many loyal followers?

"Well,  _you_ can deal with this Order meeting completely sober, but I'd rather be comfortably buzzed by the time Dumbledore comes by to tell us we're all doomed to a life in hiding."

"That wouldn't be so bad. As long as we had our friends."

"It'd be bloody  _boring_ , though. Not to mention we'd feel completely useless. Imagine getting the  _Prophet_ every day, with its news of deaths and disappearances, when you couldn't so much as go out for milk…"

James's voice had grown quiet. He shook his head, frowning. "In any case. Would you like some?" He poured me a shot without waiting for my response, and I downed in it one gulp, coughing as it burned my throat. James drank his without so much as a sniff, but I noticed his eyes watering after a moment.

"One more?" I suggested, and he laughed but complied. The second shot went down much more easily, warming me up from the inside out.

"Let's save the rest for Hagrid," James said, grinning at me, his voice suddenly much lower. He put the bottle on the table beside my maps and sat down next to me on the couch, leaning forward until I fell backward completely ungracefully. He chuckled as his mouth neared mine. "Lily Evans," he said. "Forever a clumsy ginger."

"James Potter," I said. "Forever getting himself  _kneed_  in the  _bollocks_."

But I kept my knees to myself and leaned up slightly instead so that my lips caught his. He raked his fingernails gently against my face, trailing them down my neck and over the fabric of my t-shirt. My own hands took the opposite path, from his hips up his chest to his collar. I broke away from his mouth to press a kiss to the bone there that jutted out just slightly, and when I lifted my mouth back up James had already found a new target and was sucking slightly at a spot on my neck. I giggled, and he brought his lips back up to silence me. This went on for what seemed like an age before someone cleared a throat loudly from behind James.

"Er-Mr. Moody!" I squeaked. Mad-Eye Moody, one of the most famed Aurors around, was standing mere feet away from where James and I had been snogging. Now, James lifted himself off of me, grinning at Moody and not even having the decency to look ashamed.

Moody glared at us a bit, then sniffed the bottle James had abandoned on the table. "This for us, is it?"

James cleared his throat a bit and nodded. "There's-er-some butterbeer-maybe some mead-in the-er-liquor cabinet-I'll just-"

More Order members followed Moody, then, and Sirius entered with a tray of the afore-mentioned butterbeer and mead. Marlene plopped down next to me and lit a cigarette; Gideon Prewett, noticing, asked to bum one with a wink.

"Moody's captured two Death Eaters," Kingsley Shacklebolt said once everybody'd arrived and settled down for some treacle tart and liquor, voice full of something like pride. "All without so much as the suggestion of an Unforgivable..."

"All in a day's work, eh, Moody?" Fabian Prewett asked, grinning crookedly. "Mind you, I'm a bit surprised you  _didn't_ use an Unforgivable...Merlin knows an 'Imperio' or two would've only made your life easier."

"Barty Crouch'd agree with you on that," his brother said. "And nobody wants to agree with Barty Crouch."

"Using Unforgivables to catch the Death Eaters doesn't make you much better than them," Moody said. "And Crouch is a fool...authorizing Aurors to kill only makes it more difficult to glean information out of the people we capture. They start to believe there's a way out."

"Well, in any case," Shacklebolt said. "I think we're due for a celebration, eh?"

"We've got more'n just that to celebrate," Hagrid said. "Heard Molly's had twins, Gideon...why didn' yeh say anything?"

He beamed at Gideon and Fabian, who stopped concealing their smiles, and Sirius said loudly, "Blimey, really? Cheers, mates!" and nearly spilled his drink all over the twin sitting next to him.

Fabian laughed as Gideon cleaned himself off (or was it the other way around?). "They're cute little buggers," said one.

"But they don't  _shut up_ ," finished the other.

Elphias Doge made a sound that was eerily close to a snort. "As if either of you ever shut up when  _you_ were born...or now..."

Meanwhile, Aberforth Dumbledore, who'd initially rolled his eyes at the news but was now unveiling a gleaming bottle of what he promised was goblin-fermented millenial wine, was muttering something in a low voice to Moody.

"...Just don't think it's exactly the best time to be  _having_ kids, especially not your fourth and fifth..."

Moody shrugged and summoned more glasses for the wine (though he gave it a hearty sniff before pouring any). Aberforth poured several, though he seemed to hesitate at Doge, who rolled his eyes and poured himself a glass rather jerkily.

"Abe and Doge don't get on," Sirius whispered to me conspiratorially. "Apparently Doge took up all Dumbledore's time when they were in school and Abe felt left out..."

I laughed, but the sound was hollow: this had reminded me, naturally, of Petunia.

The meeting went on, but I couldn't help noticing how strangely silent Peter was, gazing off in some other direction, and I was reminded jarringly that Peter, little Peter Pettigrew, was going to have to spy on the evil bastards that had destroyed my family...and Remus, amongst all the werewolves whose intentions were not nearly as noble as his were...I felt like I'd been doused in cold water. Remus was laughing; Sirius poured Peter another cup and bounced down next to him, talking animatedly. I looked away to where Marlene was lighting another cigarette for Gideon.

"Can I bum one?" I asked. Marlene looked at me skeptically, but Gideon offered me the pack. I took a cig, put it in my mouth, let Marlene light it, inhaled.

The taste of smoke did nothing to calm my mind, but at least it gave me something else to stare at while everyone else talked about the best way to get themselves killed.

*

Later that night, my cigarette (and the second, third, and fourth) long gone, I felt empty. Maybe it was being in this house; maybe it was the uselessness of sitting around and looking at maps while my friends risked their lives; maybe it was the increasing strength of Lord Voldemort even as we tried to stop him, but I just wanted something to fill me up, to close up the gradually larger ball of nothingness within me, to stop the absence of feeling, to replenish the joy I'd felt only hours ago, joy that had rapidly dwindled into what felt suspiciously like doom, pessimism in its purist form.

"Lily?" James said, voice nearing me in the darkness as I stared at my interlaced fingers in the darkness. "Lily, what-"

"James," I said, grasping out in the nothingness and finding him, pulling him toward me, leaning up to kiss him before I collapsed backward, bringing him with me and pushing his shirt up and off, kissing down his chest, waiting for something,  _anything_ to feel right, but even as his fingers dipped under my t-shirt, there was nothing-no lust, no desire, only fuel to move forward.

He pushed my pants off, then, leaving me in only underwear and a t-shirt, but I pushed him away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have-I'm sorry."

"What-are you alright? Did I move too quickly? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, we'll go slower, we'll-"

I put an end to his babble with my mouth, but even now, my heart wasn't in it.

"It's not you," I said, turning away. "I can't-I don't feel anything."

"What?"

"We're all going to die. And it'll be in vain."

"Lily-no. No. What we're doing is important."

"What have we done that's been worth anything?" I said. "We've come near death, but we haven't-Lord Voldemort is still at large, growing more powerful every day. If anything, we've  _helped_ him."

"That isn't true."

"But it is."

James sighed and pulled me back to him, cradling my body with his. I didn't resist, but I didn't turn to look at him, either. He dipped his head into the space between my shoulder and my neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there.

"We're not going to die," he whispered. "We're going to be fine."

I turned back toward him. "I'm not scared of dying. I'm scared of dying  _uselessly_."

"You won't."

He dropped a kiss on my mouth, his body warm against mine.

"You used to want to play Quidditch," I said, tracing a hand over his side. "What changed?"

James didn't look me directly in the eye, choosing, instead, to watch my hand's movement. "I don't know. I grew up. What kid doesn't want to be a Quidditch player or a-a musician? It's not practical."

"You're not usually one for practicality."

"It's not worthwhile, then. I could save lives as an Auror. I could-I could  _do_ something. I couldn't do that as a Quidditch player."

"So you don't want to die uselessly either."

James exhaled through his nose. "No. I don't want to  _live_ uselessly."

*

Someone knocked an hour or so later, and James crept off the bed, believing, undoubtedly, that I was sound asleep.

"Remus?" he whispered upon opening the door. "What's up?"

"I told her," Remus replied. "And there's something you should know."

James stepped out of the room and closed the door at this, but I'd learned a handy little charm that would let me listen in, and so, hissing, " _Amplios_ and pointing my wand at the door, I found myself privy to what was very clearly supposed to be a private conversation.

"You told her?" a third voice whispered-Sirius's, I was pretty sure. "How much?"

"Just about me," Remus said. "Only my secret."

"Good," Sirius said.

"What do you mean, ' _good_ '?" James said, his voice a low snarl. "We can  _trust_ her."

"I concur," said a fourth voice-Peter-and I immediately felt a rush of warmth toward him. "Lily's our  _friend_ , we can tell her."

"Oh, come off it, Wormtail, you're only saying 'cause you hope James'll let you top next time. And anyway, we have  _dozens_  of friends. Hundreds. We don't tell all of  _them_ our secrets."

"But this is  _Lily_ ," James argued. "I can't keep  _lying_ to her, Padfoot. And anyway, what makes you think she would tell anyone?"

"She was perfectly  _fine_  with me," Remus said. "She even  _touched_  me, with the full knowledge that I almost  _killed_ her last week."

"Yeah, well, you didn't, thanks to  _us_ ," Sirius said. "And of course she didn't seem scared of  _you_. She's a good person and she's your  _friend_. Not to mention you couldn't help becoming a werewolf. She couldn't very well fault you for that. What  _we've_  been doing is _illegal_."

What the hell was he talking about? What did mean,  _thanks to us_? They hadn't been there that night...

"James and Peter can tell her about themselves," Remus said. "You can keep your secret."

"Don't be stupid, Moony," Sirius said, in a voice that suggested very much that he thought Remus  _was_  a bit stupid. "She's not  _thick_. She'd put two and two together-the rat, the stag, and, what, the stray? All while lazy Sirius Black, what, naps in his dormitory?"

And-oh.  _Oh_. Illegal. They were doing something  _illegal._  Of  _course_. The rat who'd...bitten my hand? Yes, that sounded right-I remembered the pain in my hand, the throbbing. The...stag? I'd thought it was a deer...who'd directed us down the tunnel, and of course, that stupid  _flea-bitten dog_  who'd tried to keep us away. He'd grinned at me, and I'd felt stupid for thinking he was grinning because  _dogs couldn't grin_. But how had they managed it? Self-Transfiguration, once a month? But why choose to be such a wide variety of creatures? Why not all transform into wolves? So that meant they had to be...Animagi? But that magic was so advanced, so ridiculously complicated. And-their  _nicknames_. It was all too perfect, too clever-like hiding in plain sight. Moony because of the bloody _moon_ , that was Remus, of course. Wormtail, because rats' tails looked like worms. Prongs because of the antlers. Which meant the dog, with its padded paws, had to be...

"  _Padfoot_ , keep your voice down if you want your secret to  _stay secret_ ," James was hissing. "She's just in there."

And now I knew, and James didn't have to betray his friend's trust, and it was  _fine_ , completely on me that I'd figured it out. And perhaps by keeping the secret, Sirius would learn to trust me, and that was, that was  _fine_ , of course, it made sense...Peter's scar, James's exhaustion...

"Anyway," James said. "What's that you were saying, Moony? What should I know?"

"It's Snape," Remus replied.

"What's that little wanker done now?" Sirius positively  _growled_  in response, and I wondered how I hadn't figured it out before. He was so  _dog_ like...

"When I told Lily about being a werewolf, she said ' _That's_ what Snape meant, like...like he'd clued her in to it."

"What a bloody little  _prick_ ," Sirius snarled.

"Don't pretend it's not your fault, Padfoot," Peter said, and there was a brief silence before he squeaked, "Sorry."

"He wasn't supposed to tell, he  _promised_ -that's not-"

"This is  _Snape_ we're talking about, Prongs," Remus said. "And anyway, I think he must've just said something enigmatic to Lily...nobody else, probably." But he sounded a bit worried.

"We need to play a prank on this little  _toe_ rag, and soon," Sirius said. "Because we have been  _seriously_  low on pranks this year." Another brief silence. "Get it?  _Sirius_ ly?"

"But what kind of prank suits this level of assholery?" James said, completely ignoring the stupid joke. "And anyway, what if he  _tells_?"

"Blimey, mate-are you growing up?"

"It needs to be something good," James continued. "Something that can't be traced back to us. Something...monumental."

" _Finite_ ," I whispered, unwilling to keep listening as I collapsed back onto my pillows. So they were  _Animagi_ , the three of them, and they spent every full moon with their werewolf best friend, trying to make him feel more human...Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, running together every full moon, risking their lives and the lives of the villagers just to keep Remus sane...I thought this should probably worry me, should make feel terrified for their sake, but instead the thought lulled me into a somewhat fitful sleep.

I felt it when James came back to bed, even though he slept turned away from me with too much space between us on the bed. In the morning, there were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and I wanted to ask about the Marauders, but something in the set of his jaw told me I'd be better off keeping it to myself.

"Good morning," I said.

James smiled, though it didn't meet his eyes. "Morning, love."

And just like that, the mask was back.


	31. Thirty: From Sirius Black's Perspective

"You can't pull a massive prank on Snape. First of all, you're  _Head Boy_ ," Lily was saying, even though I knew that would make no difference to him. We-that is, the Marauders and Lily-were all sitting in the Potters' living room having tea the last afternoon before Frank and Alice's wedding. "And second of all, if he knows, he's  _obviously_ keeping it to himself."

"He does know," James said.

"How?"

"We don't talk about that," Peter replied. I scratched absently at a spot next to my knee, unwilling to meet anyone's eye. "But anyway, he almost told you, and we can't let that happen again."

"But you don't understand. You lot have made his life a living hell since he first started Hogwarts. He already hates it there. Why make it worse?"

Something struck me, suddenly: "He doesn't hate it there," I said. "It's his home."

"What are you talking about? Of course he hates it there."

"You don't understand," I said. "It's different for Snape - it's his home because he's never really felt at home in his actual home."

I looked at James, chewing thoughtfully on my lip. "You know, I reckon Evans is right. Maybe we let it go, just this once."

James looked bewildered. "Don't tell me you're actually feeling  _bad_  for  _Snivellus_? Blimey, Black, you used to be  _fun_."

"It's my fault he knows anyway," I said, a little too loudly. "Let's just say I don't feel like punishing him for something that was my fault in the first place, okay?"

"What does that mean?" Lily said sharply. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"He doesn't mean anything," James said loudly, shooting me a filthy look. "We don't talk about it."

He sighed then, and he looked suddenly much older, having lost all of the boyish good humor that typically came along with prank planning for him. "Fine.  _Fine_. I'm going out."

He stood abruptly, and Lily made to follow him, but he snapped, " _Alone_."

She looked hurt, but James paid no attention, grabbing his cloak and slamming the front door shut behind him.

"I'd better get home," Remus said. "Gran's visiting..." He, too, seemed unwilling to meet my eyes.

"Yeah, Dad'll worry if I'm not home soon," Peter said, but he squeezed my shoulder on his way out.

Lily was still frowning from her spot on an armchair. "What just happened?" she asked, seemingly to the wall, as she too wasn't looking at me.

"James doesn't really get it."

"Doesn't get what?"

"He doesn't get--Snape."

"What, and you do?"

"Don't be stupid, course I do."

"You've hardly exchanged two words with him other than  _Piss off, Snivelly_  and  _Levicorpus_ ," Lily said, rolling her eyes.

"That may be true," I admitted. "But everyone knows his parents are right little shits, and I know what that's like."

"Blimey, Black, are you  _empathizing_?"

"It's just-it's hard to talk about these things with James, because his parents always loved him, you know? He's never had to doubt being able to go home to a place where people are warm and would-would hug him. He's understanding about it, right, he's great, he gave me a place to live when I was homeless, but he just doesn't get some things. He just-he figures it out, he figures  _me_  out, but there are some things he  _can't_ figure out because he has no understanding of them. And he can guess what I need, but he can't guess  _why_ , and that's why he'll never understand that Snape loves Hogwarts even though we make it bloody awful for him." It was, I thought, the greatest amount of words I had ever said in a row while talking to or about Lily Evans.

She looked at me quizzically. "Why did you say it was your fault Snape knew?"

"Because I told him."

" _What_? Why?"

"Well, Prongs had been bitching about--well-- _you_ for about six months, and he kept saying how it was all Snape's fault you hated him--Prongs, that is--and we were all trying to figure out the best way to get back at Snape."

"To get back at Snape...for reacting to  _your_  arseholery? Blimey,  _blokes_."

"Yeah, wasn't really one of our crowning moments," I said dryly. "But anyway-I'd been drinking a bit, and I thought it'd be genius if I could just-sort of trick Snape. He was always trying to figure out what we got up to on the full moon, so I just sort of-told him how to get into the Shrieking Shack."

"Sirius. You  _didn't_."

"I did," I replied grimly. "And he took the bait-and, well, I got in a load of shit with Dumbledore, obviously, don't know why they didn't expel me. And Snape knew about Moony, and I'd nearly ruined everything, and James was...not exactly happy with me. By which I mean we barely spoke for, like, months, and Prongs was a right drama queen, told me I wasn't a Marauder anymore, all this shit. And I responded at first by acting like a total shit, but then by apologizing forever, and then when it seemed like they'd never forgive me-d'you remember that time last year when all of our classes were canceled and we had to go to an all day party-slash-lecture-series about accepting diversity that none of the teachers seemed to know about?"

"Yeah-wait, that was you? James was my partner in Transfiguration that day-not surprisingly, because he was always my partner in  _everything_ , the prick-and he was all shocked. I think his exact words were, 'Black's gone rogue!'"

"Well, that's how we made up. And it took  _weeks_ after that to convince them to let me go out on another full moon with them...they even considered wiping my memory."

"Blimey," she said again, and it felt good to have told the story even if I had left out some of the most important details--how I'd gotten drunk nearly every night after and changed into a dog and wandered Hogsmeade drunkenly, how I'd spelled foam onto my mouth and bitten villagers to trick them into thinking they had rabies in a desperate attempt to both prank them and get myself killed, how James looked at me with utter disgust when he first saw me in Dumbledore's office after and how he hadn't looked at me with anything resembling respect again until after the lecture, when he'd clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Nice one, Padfoot," and hadn't been quite warm toward me again until my Uncle Alphard died. I didn't tell her how Dumbledore had said, "You're resourceful, Sirius, but reckless," and then, "I won't expel you, but only because I'd rather have you here where I can keep an eye on you," and how he'd looked at me with a strange mixture of pity and contempt after and how it had taken until this year when he'd sent me on Order missions and I'd actually come through for him to stop looking at me with concern. "You could be so much more than what your name stands for," McGonagall had told me almost gently, during one of the many detentions I'd had to serve, and that had been almost as bad as not being friends with the Marauders anymore.

It had been the darkest time of my life, darker, even, then after my first year at Hogwarts, when my mother would barely look at me, or after I'd run away after fifth year. Almost no one would even talk to me for weeks, and I'd spent many an evening getting drunk and turning in the Forbidden Forest, and many others smoking a pack of cigarettes on the Astronomy Tower and debating throwing myself off it. I picked a fight with a Slytherin a day like I was  _trying_ to get myself expelled, and Dumbledore would just look at me over his glasses, all sad eyes and steepled fingers and say, "I worry about you, Sirius."

It wasn't until I'd finally planned the lecture series and gotten speakers to talk about issues of discrimination at Hogwarts and in the Wizarding World--of, naturally, Muggle-borns and werewolves and Hufflepuffs--that James looked at me, finally, with something like respect, and Remus had clapped me on the back and there was something resembling forgiveness in his slight smile, and maybe we were all right.

*

"Hey, Potter."

"Mmm?"

"Prongs."

"Mmm?"

" _James_."

" _What_?"

"You're not angry, are you? That I don't want to-to prank Snivellus. About the Moony thing."

"No."

"What about for telling Evans? Because I didn't want  _you_ to tell her about-about us. What we do every full moon."

A sigh. "No."

"Oh. Good."

"Mmm."

Whatever he said, though, James was distant for the rest of the week.

*

It was nice just to be with Marlene McKinnon, and that was what I loved about her. She was so easy just to hang out with, just to sit on a couch and read the paper with. There was something beautifully simple about our relationship that made me happy, and yet she was so passionate that there was no room for it to ever get boring.

"Hi," she said, having returned to James's house after a day of shopping with Lily and Alice. She smiled, a little slyly, and kissed me on the cheek.

"You smell nice." She did. Like cigarettes and pineapple.

"Mm. James's soap. Always knew you were in love with him."

"Why not Evans'? Hers is in his bathroom too."

"'Cause you like Potter better." She grinned a little, caught my mouth with hers.

I took her hand and dragged her into my room. "Come on, I know you want some of this," I said, gesturing to my body.

She snorted. "Right. Always."

"Come on, baby, don't you want to experience Sirius Black, the dog, the man, the legend?"

"The...dog?"

"Sorry--I'm mildly dyslexic. I meant  _god_."

She snorted again. "I've already experienced the  _god_ that is Sirius Black," she said. "I'm a little bored with him now."

"He can pretend to be someone else. A Healer, maybe. Or a professor...or a student, if that's more your thing."

"You don't have to pretend to be a student-you  _are_ one."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Let me see your dressrobes."

"Later. They're a surprise."

"Oh, come on. I'll be too drunk to pay attention at the wedding anyway."

"Fair point. Turn around."

"Why? It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Turn around!"

I did, and only peeked once.

"You can look."

I did, and she looked  _stunning_. Her hair still had some purple in it, but otherwise was pale, pale blond, and her eyes were ringed in black and the makeup was winged out and it made them look huge, but even better than all that was how good the dress looked on her. It was dark blue and had these straps and this neckline that left  _just_ enough to the imagination. It wasn't very short, but the way she was standing right now, all pigeon-toed and just a little bit shy, was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen.

"You're perfect," I said, moving toward her.

She giggled and let me kiss her, and, really, she was perfect.

It was strange because love wasn't ever anything I was searching for. I preferred a temporary good time, clean breaks, sex followed by a cigarette and a "goodbye," and it wasn't like Marlene had exactly been a chaste and virginal little girl before we'd met. I'd sort of expected the same of her, that we'd hook up regularly for a few weeks and then get bored of each other and exchange simple pleasantries whenever we saw each other after. James had very nearly killed me when he'd found out--"You absolute  _prat_ , she's on the  _Quidditch team_ , I can't have you ruining our team dynamics for a quick shag!"--but I knew Marlene McKinnon, and I knew she knew we were just having some fun.

Until we weren't just having some fun anymore, and until I realized that I didn't really like thinking about what my life was like before her, and then when we'd broken up I was so _angry_  at her for not trusting me and then I just missed having her lie next to me, hair spread all over my pillow and mouth just slightly open like she was about to say something or teeth digging into her lower lip like she was deep in thought. And the thing about Marlene McKinnon was, people called Lily Evans fiery, but there was no one as passionate as her. Marlene cared about Quidditch like she breathed it, and she cared about her family and it absolutely broke her when they died, and instead of being sad about it for ages she was stronger and more passionate for it. Some people closed themselves off after intense pain-Marlene merely cared  _more_. And she was clever, and funny, and she knew loads of different languages and she was always teaching me to swear in Mandarin.

And now, now, she was here, in my arms, and it was impossible not to want her to be there always. "Love you," I mumbled against her skin, and she let out a choked laugh, nestled her fingers in my hair. I breathed her in.

If sex was winter and cigarette smoke and the inside of my bedroom at Grimmauld Place, love was summer and flying and breathing.

*

(Marlene didn't know about Padfoot, or about Moony's monthly transformation, and sometimes I resented that a little bit, but mostly I liked being able to escape the tight circle of worry and strained laughter that surrounded Remus every full moon, and there was no way I'd have been able to do that without her.)

*

Frank and Alice's wedding was scheduled for the last day of the spring holiday, and it seemed every Gryffindor who had ever existed was there, along with Frank's Auror friends and dozens of people I could only assume were their families-people my dear mum would probably consider foolish blood traitors, the Weasleys, the Prewetts, the Longbottoms, the Thomases. The one remaining Potter sat beside me, glaring at his shoes, and if I'd been paying attention I would have seen that Lily Evans, too, was glaring at her shoes for most of the ceremony.

The ceremony was beautiful, really, properly beautiful, and all the bridesmaids in their dark blue dresses (but especially my Marlene) looked gorgeous, and Alice looked stunning in a short ivory dress, and Frank looked especially suave in his tuxedo, but I was preoccupied: The last wedding I'd been to had been my cousin Andromeda's, to a Muggle-born called Ted Tonks. The only Blacks who'd showed up were my uncle, Alphard, and Meda's sister (and current Death Eater wife) Narcissa, who had stood in the back wearing a shade of blue not unlike the one the bridesmaids wore today.

"Mother will never forgive you," Narcissa had said to Meda after, and Meda, eyes already filled with tears, had been visibly enraged.

"Leave," she'd said, and when I went to comfort her after, she snapped at me: "You're not going to tell me I'm ruining my life, too, are you? Or am I going to have to kick you out?"

"Course not," I said. "I just-I snuck some cockroaches into Cissy's soup at the last Halloween feast."

Meda had laughed at that, and Meda had a great laugh, all head thrown back and fantastically deep, a stunning sound coming from a woman so slender it sometimes seemed like a hug might snap her in two. "Thanks, Sirius," she said when she'd managed to compose herself, before kissing me on the head.

"Owl me if you need anything," she'd said. "And don't let the Blacks get you down."

That had been precisely four weeks before I'd finally run away to the Potters', and even Meda was surprised I'd lasted that long.

After the ceremony at the Longbottoms' wedding, there was a reception with an open bar, and I took full advantage. I was on my second firewhiskey cocktail when Marlene seized my hand. I gave Peter and Remus an apologetic look-Remus looked amused, but Peter looked a tad put out-and turned to her.

"Dance with me," she said, taking my drink, downing it, and dragging me onto the dance floor. It occurred to me suddenly that she smelled strange.

"You smell like pineapples," I said.

"You're unoriginal."

"No, I mean- _just_ pineapple. No cigarettes."

"Alice told me if I stunk up the place she'd castrate me."

"But you don't have..."

"Best not to question it," Marlene said, patting my shoulder consolingly. "Now, then...this goody goody dancing is a bit  _boring_ , no?" She pulled my hips toward hers. "We could make it more fun...?"

I was about to agree when someone else tapped me on the shoulder.

"May I have this dance?" asked Prongs gravely, looking pointedly at Marlene.

"Oi," I said. "She's  _my_ partner-"

"Why would you ask  _him_  if you could dance with  _me_?" Marlene was saying. "I can make my own-"

"You're both extraordinarily thick," said James cheerfully. "I wanted to dance with Padfoot here."

"Um..." I looked at Marlene.

"Who am I to come between true love?" she said. "I'll go find Lily..."

She left, and Prongs took me by the hand and proceeded to waltz me across the floor.

"You're done being angry with me, then?"

"What? I wasn't ever angry with you."

"We've barely spoken all week."

"Mmm," he replied infuriatingly, continuing to lead the waltz and not really respond to me.

"What are you doing?" I said suspiciously. "Not that I'm not  _loving_ this--and you are quite dreamy, but--"

"I needed a break from females," James said, and, having reached the corner of the floor, let go of me and sank into a chair. "They're all so--wedding obsessed."

I looked around. Remus was talking to a pretty redhead in a corner that I thought might be a Weasley, and Peter was dancing with a brunette that might have been a Ravenclaw a year our junior. Or perhaps a Hufflepuff, and maybe she was in our year. Marlene had found the groom and was now dancing with him, while Alice was dancing with Gid Prewett and Lily was dancing with a first year Longbottom. Emmeline Vance was snogging another of the Prewetts, and Dorcas Meadowes was smoking with a vaguely familiar bloke--who was very distinctly not Remus, and, well that was a shame--in the corner. "But it's so beautiful!"

"Blimey, not you too..."

"You sound like Evans."

"What?" he said, almost hopefully.

"No...I just meant...she says 'blimey' a lot."

"Oh," said James. "Right. Anyway, listen...let's sneak out of here, go to a bar or something."

"What's wrong with you? This is the Longbottoms' wedding...this is like, the perfect couple. They're basically the prototypes of you and Evans. The original Jily, so to speak."

"Jily? That's awful."

"Lames?"

"Even worse."

"Potvans? Evter? Prongly? What's her middle name?"

"You're hopeless," said James, a little disgustedly. "Anyway, there's just too much...crying...and mushiness."

"Merlin, you're terrified," I said giddily, suddenly realizing something. "Because you...want to ask Evans to marry you? And you're worried she'll say no?"

"No," he replied, staring dejectedly at a half-full cup on the table before taking it and chugging it, then wincing slightly before speaking again. "I'm just not really enjoying the wedding scene because...I already asked her. And she already said no."


	32. Thirty One

James was angry. That much was clear. _Why_ he was so angry was less obvious.  
  
“I don't understand,” I said again from my spot next to him on his bed. “So Sirius didn't want to prank Snape--you've done it before. Surely it's lost its novelty?”  
  
“That's not the point,” he said flatly. “It's that--I don't know.” He turned away from me, and again I felt a new distance between us.   
  
But James wasn't nearly as good as hiding things from me as he had been just a few months before.  
  
“This isn't just about the prank, is it,” I said. “It's about Sirius.”  
  
“You don't understand,” he said, his voice muffled against his pillow.   
  
“Sirius told me. About his--his prank.”  
  
A pause. “You don't get what it's like to think you've lost your best friend.”  
  
“Er, yeah, I think I do,” I said. “My sister was my _best friend_ when I was a kid. She stopped being nice to me sometime around the time my magic stopped being cute and started being weird.”  
  
James turned toward me. “I forgot.”  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
“It's just--it's weird to see Sirius thinking about someone's feelings.”  
  
“Yeah, that sounds awful.”  
  
“No, it's that--it's weird to think that he's in love with just one girl, and that he cares about what Snape'll think, and that...I don't know.”  
  
“I mean, you've changed too,” I said. “You used to be a complete _git_. And now you're...not. That doesn't mean you're not going to be friends anymore, or that you'll suddenly grow apart. Because you've been growing together, you know? When was the last time one of your pranks really hurt someone?”  
  
“ I used to hex second years,” James said dully.   
  
“Exactly.”  
  
James looked at me, and something in his expression had changed. “I adore you,” he said, as if realizing it for the first time. “You...remind me that I'm good.”  
  
“You're the cockiest bloke I know. You don't need reminding of that.”  
  
“Everyone needs reminding of that.” He moved closer, kissed me. “I'll be right back.”  
  
He was only gone for a second, and when he came back he was holding a small box. “Er,” he said, and I was filled with a horribly familiar sense of dread. “It's like I said. You--you remind me that I'm good. And you're beautiful. And I spent years loving you from afar, but loving you up close isn't like anything I could've ever imagined. And I love you. But I also like you. Because you don't think we're stupid for trying to help Remus, and you don't hate Remus for what he is. And--this is my mum's ring.” He stopped, stared at me for a second. “I'm not very impulsive, usually. Like, I try to seem like I am, but everything I do is planned weeks in advance. But this isn't, but it still feels--it still feels right.” He stopped again, as if trying to gauge my reaction. “Lily Evans...will you marry me?”  
  
I didn't even think about my response. “No,” and almost added, “Not on your life, Potter!” Instead, I said, “I'm sorry, James. I--I can't.” And that felt familiar, too.  
  
His face fell, and it was like the ground had collapsed underneath me. “Oh.”   
  
It felt too familiar when I ran away, even if I only stood up, walked carefully to the door, turned to him, whispered, “Good night,” and left the room.  
  
*  
  
“We haven't broken up,” I told Marlene for what felt like the thousandth time. We were in a guest bedroom at the Longbottoms' house getting ready for Alice's wedding a few days after James's proposal. “We're just. Not really...talking.”  
  
“But I just think--” she started to say, but stopped abruptly. “Is that Alice?”  
  
There were voices just outside. “I think so. Remember, don't tell her until _after_ the wedding.”  
  
“Do I look all right?”  
  
I glanced over; she looked more than all right, all choppy pixie cut and fading purple tips and heavy black eyeliner. “You look great,” I replied, scrutinizing myself in the mirror and tapping my hair with my wand until it curled just so. “Where are my heels?”  
  
“Under the bed,” Marly replied, tossing me one. “I still think it would have made more sense for them to have this wedding at the beginning of the holiday and have their honeymoon this week...”  
  
“I don't think Frank could get the time off and they didn't want to wait any longer,” I replied, Summoning the other shoe before Alice finally knocked and entered.  
  
“You guys look great!” she said cheerfully, before bursting promptly into tears.   
  
“Shite,” said Marly, while I leapt toward Alice and wrapped an arm carefully around her shoulder.  
  
“Sorry,” Alice said upon composing herself. “I j-j-just d-d-don't know if this is the right decision!”  
  
“You love Frank,” Marlene said soothingly. “And you've been with him forever...And you want to be with him forever...right?”  
  
Alice nodded. “Of c-c-course. But if we get married...and if we have a child...and I just l-l-lost one!” She burst into tears again.  
  
“Let's sedate her,” said Marlene.  
  
“I have a potion for nerves,” I told Alice, who held out a hand.  
  
“Yes,” she said, reaching for the small bottle I withdrew from my bag. “Drug me.”  
  
She downed the potion in one club, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, surveying herself in the mirror. “Make me beautiful.”  
  
Thirty minutes and what seemed like half a pot of makeup and an entire bottle of hairspray later, Alice was primped and prepped and looked positively stunning.  
  
“How do I get into the dress without ruining my hair?” she asked, frowning.  
  
“We're  _witches_ ,” Marlene reminded her, and just a second later, Alice was fully dressed, veil and all.  
  
“I think we're needed at the ceremony,” I said, hearing what sounded oddly like a combination of Mrs. Longbottom and a tortured hawk. “Alice,  _stay put_. We'll call you when we need you, yeah?”  
  
Alice nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed and playing with her wand. “Got anymore of that potion?”  
  
“Not that I can let you have,” I replied. “Pomfrey's orders.”  
  
“She's not still upset about that accidental overdose, is she?”  
  
“Well, she's not  _chuffed_ ,” I said dryly, rolling my eyes.  
  
“Why don't I go see what the current Mrs. Longbottom needs,” said Marly, “and you stay here and make sure the future Mrs. Longbottom doesn't sully her pants.”   
  
Alice stuck out her tongue, creating a bizarre juxtaposition between stunning bride and insolent six year old, and Marlene patted her lightly on the head before practically gliding out of the room, graceful as ever even in five inch heels--all of this before I could tell her how horrible an idea it was to leave me, the recent proposal-rejecter, alone with the bride.  
  
“What's wrong?” I said to Alice.  
  
“I don't know,” she said miserably. “It's not that I don't want to get married, or that I have cold feet. I just--I'm just terrified that everything's going to explode in my face.”  
  
“Hey,” I said. “Listen: you love Frank, and Frank loves you. You've loved each other for ages and you're going to love each other forever. You're both lovely, clever people, and you wouldn't make the wrong mistake for yourselves. There will be more chances to have a child, and even if it does all explode in your face, at least you _tried_.” The words sounded hollow to me, but Alice nodded, smiled at her reflection in the mirror.  
  
“ I look bloody _gorgeous_ , don't I?”  
  
“Definitely,” I replied, grinning. “Now go get married, Lawrence.”  
  
*  
  
The wedding was held in the Longbottoms' backyard, and by some gift of the gods it didn't rain.  
  
The yard had been completely covered in magical flowers, which seemed to bloom at the touch. The chairs were set up in neat rows, but there was a set of tables magically shrunk and tucked neatly into a corner for the reception.   
  
Now, however, I was lined up next to Marlene and Hestia Jones, while on the opposite side were Frank's groomsmen, the Prewett twins and Caradoc Dearborn. The three of us were in dark blue dress “robes,” though the only difference they seemed to have from regular dresses were the deep and barely visible pockets for wands they had on the sides. Meanwhile, the groomsmen's dress robes were a bit more traditional, though they had bowties in the front like Muggle tuxedos.   
  
Frank and Alice's vows were too beautiful for me to listen to. From the very first, “Alice...I've loved you since the day I laid eyes on you,” I found myself tearing up. The most awful part of that was that it felt like at least half the reason I was crying was my own internal conflict with James' proposal. I knew I loved him, knew that I had loved him for a very long time. I knew that I couldn't visualize my life without him. But something, still, was holding me back, and that I was now at one of my best friends' wedding, paying more attention to this than I was to the vows she and her husband had written for each other.  
  
The ceremony ended with the traditional bonding of the wands, wherein Alice and Frank touched the tips of their wands together and performed a piece of ancient magic to bond them together. The room burst into applause as the couple kissed over their still-connected wandtips.  
  
“And now the reception begins! Hold on tight,” said the wizard overseeing the ceremony, waving his wand. The tables moved into place and returned to their original sizes, and then all of our chairs moved--with us still sitting on them--into place around the tables. “Dinner,” said the wizard grandly.  
  
Food appeared at our tables, much like it did at Hogwarts, and beside me, Marlene began to eat with fervor.   
  
“This is bloody delicious,” she said cheerfully, tearing into a turkey leg as though it had personally victimized her.  
  
“It looks it,” I replied dryly, poking at my own chicken and finding--to my complete lack of surprise--that I hadn't much of an appetite.  
  
I looked across to the adjacent table, where James was sitting with the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors. He was talking to Remus rapidly and animatedly, and suddenly something within me ached with missing him. We had barely spoken in days, and he'd barely touched me since his kiss the night he'd proposed.  
  
Now, his face betrayed none of the crestfallenness it had at my rejection. Instead, he was smiling sort of crookedly in that way he always did, gesturing about wildly with one hand while the other raked through his hair, stopping every once in a while to spoon some food into his mouth.  
  
“You're staring,” Marlene said softly, and I immediately returned to my meal.  
  
“Bloody awful seating arrangements, these,” Gideon Prewett said, having apparently noticed my stare. “Not that I don't love you lot, but why not put us with our families and friends?”  
  
“Come on, Gid, are you really going to complain about having to sit with these lovely ladies?” his brother asked, beaming at us. “Any chance you're part Prewett, Evans?”  
  
“Or Weasley?” asked Gid.  
  
“I'm Muggle-born,” I replied.  
  
“Maybe your parents are just humiliated, exiled Squibs who haven't told you the truth of your parentage yet,” Caradoc Dearborn said. He had a barely noticeable Welsh accent, and it made his “r”s vaguely amusing. “I always heard there were a few secret Squibs in the Weasley clan.”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous,” Fabian said. “The Weasleys would love to have a few Squibs. They'd never keep them secret.”  
  
“Biggest lot of blood traitors ever,” said Gideon cheerfully. “Glad my sister's got one, or I'd've had to marry the lot myself.”  
  
“I've met Arthur Weasley,” I said. “He's sort of--obsessed, isn't he?”  
  
“Yeah, he's a right good lad, but he loves Muggles more than his own sons.”  
  
“Wouldn't be surprised if he gave up his first born for a Muggle child.”  
  
“Mind you, they could afford to lose a kid,” Gideon said. “They're on--what--their fourth now?”  
  
“Molly's just had twins,” Caradoc explained to us. “I think they make five.”  
  
“I don't even remember all of their names,” Gideon confided.  
  
“Well, there's Fred and George, of course.”  
  
“Of course. Couldn't forget our namesakes.”  
  
“Our sort-of-namesakes.”  
  
“And there's...Bill. He's the oldest, I think.”  
  
“No, that's Chuckie...”  
  
“I think you mean Charlie,” Caradoc said kindly, patting Fabian comfortingly on the shoulder. “And then there's Percy...”  
  
“And Molly's sure to have at least three more, because she's bloody insane,” Gideon continued. “Wants a daughter, she does.”  
  
“And Arthur apparently has super-sperm,” said Marlene, and then blushed. “Sorry...I've had a few.”  
  
“Open bars'll do that to you,” said Fabian gallantly. “Make no more references to our sister's sex life, and we'll let it slide.”  
  
“Thank you ever so much,” Marlene said gravely. “Now, I'm off to get a bit more drunk before dessert. Anyone want anything?”  
  
After dessert, the wizard who'd been in charge of the ceremony waved his wand again, and the tables moved to the sides of the garden and elongated, so that there were a few stacked with fruits and pastries surrounding the now-cleared ground. The wizard waved his wand again, and the ground was covered in what looked like heavy plastic.  
  
“Special new floor material,” Caradoc whispered to me in his singsong voice. “Anti-slip, anti-spill, anti-stain. Patent pending.”  
  
“Let's have a dance,” I suggested, and he complied, setting our drinks down on the nearest table and leading me by the hand to the new floor.  
  
“Listen, Lily,” Caradoc said slowly. “You're friends with Dorcas Meadowes, right?”  
  
“Er...yeah. We're both Gryffindor seventh years, but we've only become friends in the last year or so.”  
  
“But you know her fairly well?”  
  
“Of late, yes.”  
  
“I sort of--have a thing for her. Our families used to holiday together and...well...I think I've developed a thing for her.”  
  
“Yes, you said that,” I said, giggling. “What d'you want from me?”  
  
“Is she--seeing anyone?”  
  
“Not as far as I know,” I replied. “I think she went out on a few dates with Remus Lupin, but I don't think it really worked out.”  
  
“Poor Lupin...never even saw him dating anyone while I was at Hogwarts.”  
  
“I went out with him for a few weeks.”  
  
“What'd Potter say to that?”  
  
“I've no idea,” I replied, realizing that I didn't and resolving to ask James about it before remembering our lack of communication of late. I caught sight of him over Caradoc's shoulder, watching us. When James saw me looking, he raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly toward Caradoc. I looked away.  
  
Caradoc seemed to notice my discomfort. “What d'you think you're going to do after Hogwarts?” he asked, changing the subject.  
  
“I dunno...” I said, realizing I hadn't really thought about it. “I suppose Auror training would make the most sense, although I really much prefer potion-making to anything else.”  
  
“What about medicine development?” Caradoc said. “You could combine the helping people thing with the potion-making thing.”  
  
“Hmm...I suppose. I've always been sort of awful at Healing spells, though. But some type of potion development would definitely be the ideal.”  
  
“My mum's head of St. Mungo's business department,” he said. “She chooses which new potions to buy from potioneers and then hires people to make them. Let me know if you want an apprenticeship or something.”  
  
Nepotism wasn't exactly something I was the biggest advocate of, but there was a sort of gnawing feeling that told me without it I was unlikely to get a job at all. I was, after all, a Muggle-born from Surrey, not a pure blood from London or the west country or something. My name meant very little, while Caradoc's, I was sure, meant quite a lot. “Thanks,” I said, grinning. “That'd be _lovely_...”  
  
“ Ah, I think Dorcas has just freed up,” Caradoc said, peering over my shoulder. “You don't mind if I...”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
“Thanks, Lily,” Caradoc said, kissing my cheek. “And I'm serious about a possible position or apprenticeship. You know where to find me. Tara!”  
  
Alone, I wandered over to where three of the Marauders--notably, the missing figure was James--were sipping at drinks near the bar.  
  
“You look great,” said Remus.  
  
“Hello, Lily,” said Peter.  
  
“Why were you dancing so close to that bloke?” said Sirius.  
  
“Relax, he's after Dorcas Meadowes,” I said. “And thanks, Remus, you don't look so bad yourself, and hello, Peter, please pass me that goblet next to you.”  
  
“Ah...bad luck Moony. And that's probably the cleverest idea you've had all week,” Sirius added, watching as I drank the contents of the goblet in one gulp. “Weddings are lovely, really, but there are so many _relatives_ to deal with...”  
  
“I was never _interested_ in her, we were just the last two Gryffindors in the--anyway, it's not as if anyone's so much as tried to talk to you. They all either hate you for being a blood traitor or hate you for being a Black.”  
  
“There are blood purists here?” I asked, alarmed.  
  
“Not many open ones,” replied Sirius. “But all old Wizarding families have them.”  
  
“Many of them are more--er--traditional,” Remus said. “As in--they don't _hate_ Muggle-borns, but rather think magic should sort of--stay in the family.”  
  
“And they're all inbred and insane for it, just look at the Blacks,” Sirius said brightly.   
  
“Politics is boring,” Peter said, yawning as if to emphasize his point. “I'm going to get more drinks.”  
  
“Probably for the best,” Remus replied, before turning to me. “It really _is_ a gorgeous ceremony.”  
  
“I suppose,” I said. “All weddings are beautiful.”  
  
“But this one's Alice's. Surely it has a sort of--best friend level of beauty.”  
  
“Blimey, yeah, it's beautiful, I don't have to _gush_ over it,” I said, realizing how awfully bitter I sounded.  
  
“You say 'blimey' a lot,” Sirius commented, playing with a toothpick.  
  
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn't mean to be so short...”  
  
“Don't apologize,” Sirius said. “I was only pointing out an interesting speech pattern.”  
  
I stared at him; so did Remus.   
  
“What's going on?” asked Peter, having returned with drinks.  
  
I took mine. “I'm going to go find someone to dance with,” I said.  
  
“Like your boyfriend?” Sirius said, a little pointedly in that annoying Sirius Black way he had.  
  
I ignored him, but it _was_ James who I sought out, and James who smiled at me--a little stiffly--and said, “Having fun?”  
  
“Loads.”  
  
“You look beautiful.”  
  
“Thanks. You look dapper.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
We said nothing else until the song ended. James wouldn't look me in the eye and stayed at least a foot away from me the entire time.   
  
I had, I realized while ordering a double firewhiskey from a winking bartender, screwed up quite royally.  
  
I drank the whiskey in one gulp and ordered another, and after that, everything was blurry.  
  
*  
  
“It strikes me that we're making a habit of this,” Marlene said, passing me some of the Marauders' magical hangover-curing potion and proceeding to light a cigarette and hold her hand out of the window to let the smoke escape. We were on the Hogwarts Express and, yes, recovering from the previous night's extremely heavy drinking.  
  
“I don't even remember drinking anything past my sixth firewhiskey,” I said. “For all I know, _you_ lot drugged me.”  
  
“I'm fairly certain I either snogged or shagged Kingsley Shacklebolt in the Longbottoms' bushes,” Emmeline admitted.  
  
“Do we know Hestia Jones' sexual orientation? I'm fairly certain she tried to kiss me before Caradoc saved me,” Dorcas said.  
  
“Sorry, Dor. She's engaged,” Alice informed her.  
  
“I think I may have danced with Alastor Moody,” said Marlene.  
  
“I think I may have _snogged_ Alastor Moody,” said Peter.  
  
“Yep, definitely drugged...”  
  
“That's how you know you've had a good time,” said Sirius, though even he looked a little green.   
  
“We're developing a small drinking problem, I think,” Remus said dryly.  
  
“At least we're all in it together,” Peter said, though he still looked faintly disturbed at the prospect of having had Moody's gnarled mouth anywhere near his.  
  
I snorted. “Misery loves company?”  
  
“Exactly,” James deadpanned. He was sitting next to me, his arm around the back of my seat instead of my shoulders, but he'd been surprisingly...decent since we'd woken up in his bed together that morning, sweaty and barely clothed and desperate to use the toilet.  
  
And, I had to admit, I missed him. Even now, it was nearly impossible to resist falling against him and dozing off, and so instead I focused on Alice, who was twisting her ring around her finger absently and gazing out the window. She was thinking, I was sure, about Frank, probably worrying about him the way she always was, probably wishing she was on a honeymoon with him.   
  
Something in my gut twisted suddenly and I stood up. “I need to use the loo,” I announced, walking out of the compartment with as much dignity as I could muster and promptly tripping once the doors closed behind me, though luckily, it seemed no one had caught me.  
  
I found that I didn't want to move from the comfortable spot on the floor. My hangover was mostly gone, though the Marauders had had to split the small supply of the potion they'd brought to James's house with them between quite a few of us, and my headache hadn't quite ebbed away.   
  
Instead of wallowing in my self pity, however, I pulled myself up and found the food trolley. The train was significantly emptier than usual, as not very many people typically went home for the spring holiday, and as such I found there wasn't much of a line for food. For the first time, however, I also found myself wishing there _had_ been a line, as that would delay my return to that painfully awkward compartment.  
  
“Coffee and pumpkin pasties, please,” I told the food trolley witch, who beamed at me.  
  
“You look like you need it, love,” she said, pouring me a massive mug of steaming coffee. “Milk and sugar?”  
  
“Just sugar, please,” I said.   
  
I wandered away from her with my meal, deciding to find an empty compartment and read a book or something until we arrived at Hogsmeade. It was strange--it had been only a few days at James's place, but I already missed having a room to myself, even if at Hogwarts the only thing I ever did in it was snog James Potter. Even so, being alone now seemed like a godsend. I found a copy of _Jane Eyre_ in my bag and settled down with my legs stretched out on the seat, pumpkin pasties in my lap, coffee hovering beside me. It was the most peaceful Hogwarts Express trip I could remember.  
  
“Where'd you disappear to?” Alice asked when we arrived at Hogsmeade Station. “Everyone fell asleep. I was bored.”  
  
“I was reading in a compartment that wasn't trying and failing to fit three more people than is actually comfortable,” I replied as we sought out the carriages.  
  
“Lucky you.”  
  
I boarded a carriage with her, Dorcas, and Emmeline, remembering with a pang the days when I hadn't been able to see the thestrals leading them and putting the thought out of my mind. After having spent the majority of the trip alone reading Charlotte Bronte, I now found myself almost craving companionship, but also at a curious loss for words.  
  
“I think I'm still a little drunk,” Emmeline admitted. “When I just got off the train the entire world started spinning.”  
  
I laughed. “D'you know, I woke up this morning mostly naked in James's bed and for all I know, all we did was get hot and pass out.”  
  
“That's probably what happened,” Dorcas said. “I'm fairly certain I've done that at least twice...”  
  
“Is something the matter between you and James?” Alice asked. “You barely spoke at all at the wedding...or danced, for that matter.”  
  
“Er,” I said. “He--well--he proposed.”  
  
“Did he really?” Alice said, beaming. “That's lovely! Congratulations!”  
  
“What was the ring like?” Emmeline asked. “Was it _massive_?”  
  
“ I'll bet it was,” Dorcas said. “Bloody rich, the Potters...”  
  
“The one Potter,” I corrected. “And--the ring was lovely, but...I said no.”  
  
“You _did_?” Alice asked, shocked. “Why?”  
  
“ I just wasn't--ready,” I said, not wanting to explain it to them and feeling strangely closed off, in a way I hadn't in months.  
  
Alice, luckily, seemed to sense my unwillingness to talk and turned to Dorcas. “So what about you and Caradoc Dearborn, eh?”  
  
“What _about_ us?”   
  
Emmeline snorted. “Oh, please. He couldn't stay away from you!”  
  
“Nor you from him,” I added.  
  
“He's sweet!” Dorcas said defensively.  
  
“He's lovely,” I agreed. “What's he like in the sack?”  
  
Dorcas stuck her tongue out and blushed all the way back to Hogwarts.  
  
“How come nobody's outside?” Alice said, climbing out of the carriage. “It's  _lovely_...”  
  
“ This way!” called Professor McGonagall, who was waiting for us at the Hogwarts gates. “This way, please!”  
  
“We've been doing this for years, Professor. We know how to get back to the castle,” Sirius said, a little incredulously.  
  
McGonagall ignored him. “Come on, then.”  
  
We followed her to the castle, mumbling amongst ourselves; aside from the entire seventh year Gryffindor class, there were two other carriage-fulls of people, all of whom seemed equally confused at McGonagall's urgency.  
  
“Something's wrong,” Dorcas muttered.   
  
“You're clever, aren't you?” Sirius said, raising an eyebrow. “Didn't know you could infer obvious conclusions...”  
  
“Don't be a prick,” I admonished as Dorcas kicked him.  
  
“You got laid last night!” Sirius said gleefully. “I can tell 'cause--usually when birds kick me it's either to the fun bits or the knees, but you've just landed a slight tap on my shin!”  
  
“You can't know that. Maybe I just didn't want to cause your fun bits injury.”  
  
“Yeah, because you had fun with someone else's last--What's that?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“It's _silent_.”  
  
We had reached the castle, and Sirius's description was correct. It was nearing dinnertime, but the entrance hall was deserted and McGonagall led us straight past the Great Hall, out of which there poured none of the usual mealtime chatter.  
  
“Professor,” I said hesitantly. “What's going on?”  
  
She sighed. “Heads, please escort the rest of the Gryffindors to Gryffindor tower...I'll take these Ravenclaws to their Common Room and be in yours shortly.”  
  
“But what--”  
  
“In a _minute_ , Potter. _Go_.”  
  
We wasted no more time in obeying, as she looked rather adamant, and led the few younger Gryffindors that were with us to the tower.  
  
“What d'you think's going on?” Kevin Abercrombie asked, running a hand through his hair. “Can't be that bad, can it, or they'd never have let us through without being searched...”  
  
“But there were wards on the door,” Alice said, and I wondered at not having noticed that. “On the Hogwarts Express, remember? Like some kind of magical scanner.”  
  
“Yeah, I was still fairly buzzed then from _your_ wedding, so I don't actually remember that,” Sirius said. “I reckon I just stumbled onto the train without paying any attention.”  
  
“But she's right,” James said. “They made us all go through the same door, right? I thought it was just because there were only, like, twenty of us, but that makes much more sense.”  
  
“So you think something awful's happened?” asked a first year. “I _told_ mum I didn't want to go home for the holiday...”  
  
I looked at him a little disapprovingly, but Sirius's face lit up. “You're terrific, you are,” he said. “The perfect child to take on our legacy when we leave, eh, Prongs?”  
  
But James wasn't listening; he was instead poring over a piece of parchment with Remus. “Everyone's in their towers,” Remus said.  
  
“Where else would they be?”  
  
“No,” James said, frowning. “ _Everyone's_ in their towers...it's _dinnertime_. No one's in the Great Hall...or the library...or even the kitchens...”  
  
“ Blimey,” said Sirius. “Trip to the kitchens is in order for later, I think...”  
  
“Right,” I said. “Let's get this lot back to Gryffindor tower too, and then we can figure out what to do.”  
  
“Can I help?” asked the first year.  
  
“Merlin, Mar, our kid better be just like this.”  
  
“Never say that again. I'm not risking this body just to have a child. I'd like to continue eating my weight in fried chicken, thanks,” she responded.  
  
“Come on...let's drop them off in the Common Room and then go to ours to figure out what's going on,” I said upon reaching the Fat Lady. “Pocketbook,” I said to her, and she looked at me sadly.  
  
“I don't envy whoever gets to tell you what's happened,” she said before swinging open for us.  
  
“What does that even mean?” Sirius asked. “You're more rubbish every year...”  
  
“Don't be a git, Padfoot,” Peter said, winking at the Fat Lady; Sirius had always been a bit bitter that the Fat Lady seemed to fancy Peter and only tolerate Sirius. She was, I was sure, the only female to ever make that choice.  
  
We climbed through the portrait hole to encounter the strangest thing I'd ever seen: a subdued Gryffindor Common Room.   
  
It did seem as though most of the house were in there, though unlike the few other times I'd witnessed something similar--during a post-Quidditch-match party, or perhaps during O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s when the library was too full of Ravenclaws to study in, or even on a regular non-Hogsmeade Saturday night--it was almost completely silent. The couches and chairs had people draped over them, and quite a few were sitting on the floor or had seemingly conjured new chairs. Every Gryffindor I knew was in the room, which was vaguely separated by group of friends, but not a single word was uttered.  
  
“Good thing you're back,” said Laura Bell. “The entire school's gone to shit while you've been gone.”  
  
“What's happened?” James asked. “What's wrong?”  
  
“Prefects,” I said. “Bell, McLaggen, Abercrombie, Spinnet, what's Dumbledore told you?”  
  
“I've only just got here,” Kevin said. “I walked in _with_ you.”  
  
“Er...right. Sorry.”  
  
“Nothing,” Sammy Spinnet said dully. “They said we were all confined to our towers until classes start again, at which point the prefects and Head Boy and Girl will escort everyone to class.”  
  
“But why? What's going on?”  
  
“You didn't hear?” Jason McLaggen said.   
  
“Dumbledore's kept it out of the  _Prophet_ ,” Laura said.  
  
“Kept _what_ out of the _Prophet_?” Kevin asked.  
  
“ There you are,” said a voice behind us. We collectively turned around to see McGonagall climbing through the portrait hole. “Potter, Evans...seventh years...come to the Heads' Common Room with me. Prefects,” she added, looking at Bell, McLaggen, Abercrombie, and Spinnet, “wait here until I get back.”  
  
“As if we could even go anywhere else,” Kevin said, setting down his travel bag beside Sammy and seating himself upon it.   
  
“Yes, well, we need to discuss your walking everyone to class this week with the Head Boy and Girl, and it's probably safest if we have the prefect meeting by house instead of all together,” she said.  
  
“Why not just have it in the Heads' office?” Sammy said.  
  
“Surely if you expect us to escort everyone to class we can escort _ourselves_ to a room,” Laura said.  
  
“We're not _thick_ , we can take care of ourselves,” added Jason stubbornly.  
  
“I'll be _right back_ ,” McGonagall said, striding toward the door that led to our private Common Room.  
  
“Getting insolent, aren't they, Minnie?” Sirius said, holding the door open for her.   
  
“How come you can get in here?” she asked, then sighed. “Never mind, don't tell me.”  
  
“We didn't bewitch the door to let in our friends,” James said quickly. “Would never do a thing like that...”  
  
“Of course not,” McGonagall said wearily, waiting for the rest of us to file into the room before shutting the door.  
  
“Are you going to tell us what's going on or are we just going to sit around and escort people to classes? Because at this point I think we should choose one or the other--whether we're going to be kept in the dark all the time or whether we're going to be proper Order members,” James said, and for the first time he sounded angry.  
  
“I  _know_ , Potter. Calm down.” McGonagall took a deep breath. “I have to make sure you are who you say you are, or Alastor Moody will kill me...You'd better have a seat.”  
  
Everyone did, though James only begrudgingly. McGonagall herself sat in a straight-backed wooden chair, rested on elbow on it, and pinched the bridge of her nose wearily, asking us all questions to confirm our identities before finally meeting our eyes.  
  
“There have been several...attacks,” she said at last. “On Muggle-borns.”  
  
“ _What_?” James and Marlene said at once, though the horrible sinking sensation in my stomach told me just how expected this actually was....It was only a matter of time, after all, that the people Death Eaters considered scum of the earth were properly targeted, and where better to start than at the place where they were the most impressionable?  
  
“ Only three,” McGonagall added. “But we're keeping a sharp eye out for the perpetrators.”  
  
“Surely you've narrowed it down to one house,” James snarled, just as Dorcas said, “ _Only_ three?”  
  
“Yes, well. About a quarter of the school are Muggle-borns...three out of a few hundred is not a _huge_ population.”  
  
“But they're still people.”  
  
“I understand that, Potter, and they're in the Hospital Wing receiving the best possible treatment, I assure you.”  
  
“So they're all alive?” I said, exhaling for what felt like the first time in days, just as James asked, “But what if someone sneaks in to finish them off?”  
  
“Yes, they are alive,” McGonagall said. “And recovering nicely, though you know how Poppy likes to be thorough.”  
  
“That doesn't answer my question,” James said.  
  
“I'm _getting to it_ , Potter, honestly. The Ministry has doubled the Auror guard at the school, though of course they're stretched thin as it is. Albus managed to...convince them,” she said, coughing slightly. “The safety of our students is, after all, of the utmost importance.”  
  
“D'you know who did it?”  
  
“No. We were all trying to deal with a fight on the Quidditch pitch when the first one happened, another fight in the Great Hall when the second happened, and a third in a girl's bathroom when the last one happened.”  
  
“And you never thought, hey, every time we break apart these fights a Muggle-born ends up attacked?” James asked, one hand balled into a fist as if he were ready to strike at any moment. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and James' fist gradually unclenched, though the tension in his shoulders remained.  
  
“That's just it,” McGonagall said. “Whoever did it was crafty...there were fights all over the place all week that we were breaking up, but only three of them resulted in attacked Muggle-borns.”  
  
“And let me guess,” James said. “All the people fighting were Slytherins whose parents we _know_ are evil.”  
  
“That's the curious part,” McGonagall said, and I could tell she was getting to the crux of it all now by the way her forehead creased. “They _weren't_. Some of them were students you'd never believe could hurt a fly...sure, there were a _few_ Slytherin fights, but there were also Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and, yes, Gryffindors fighting.”  
  
“So it could be anyone,” Dorcas said, frowning. “Anyone at all.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
I exhaled through my teeth. “Who were the Muggle-borns?”  
  
“Jane Brocklehurst, Andrew Murphy, and Benjy Fenwick,” McGonagall replied.  
  
“Benjy Fenwick?” said Sirius. “But he's--he's one of us!”  
  
“I know,” McGonagall said, sighing and rubbing her temples absently with a long finger. “In any case, whatever's going on seems to have calmed down, but please do think about whatever's happening. We don't know very much about the attacks, but the people who were fighting all have detention in the trophy room for the next few weekends if you want to talk to them.”  
  
“What did they say when asked about the fights?” Remus asked, frowning.  
  
“They claimed they'd never happened,” McGonagall said, and then frowned as well. “Almost as if--someone had wiped it from their memories.”  
  
“Professor,” James said slowly, having seemingly calmed down. “What if--what if the people who _did_ do it Imperiused them or--or tricked them, or something--and then Obliviated them when it was done? It wouldn't be _hard_ , and if they're going to attack Muggle-borns then they're probably already working for Voldemort, so it's not like they're strangers to the Unforgiveables...”  
  
“Yes,” McGonagall said, clearly having come to the same conclusion. “I'm going to tell the prefects about their patrols. Evans, Potter, Lupin, please go and explain this to Professor Dumbledore.”  
  
Remus, James, and I didn't need to be told twice. It was strange, really--I felt like I was itching for a fight or a mystery or some sort of drama, like my heart was pounding for the first time in ages. All traces of my hangover were long forgotten, as was--momentarily if nothing else--the awkwardness between myself and James.  
  
“Professor,” James said upon reaching Dumbledore's office, voice filled with urgency.  
  
Dumbledore looked up from the scrolls of parchment at us. “Mr. Potter. Miss Evans. Mr. Lupin. I see you have returned from your holiday. Do tell Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom I did try to make it to their wedding...unfortunately, I was otherwise occupied...”  
  
“We think whoever wanted those Muggle-borns attacked bewitched everyone into fighting,” James said.  
  
“And it makes sense,” Remus added, “because they said they hasn't done it--and what's the point in doing that if someone's _seen_ you do it?”  
  
“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “Yes, I guessed as much...The real question is _who_? And _why_?” He sighed before turning to me.  
  
“ Miss Evans, you do remember our...er...conversation in the Hospital Wing several months ago?”  
  
I nodded. “It was--Regulus Black, wasn't it? And you said he was probably there as a diversion...”  
  
“Exactly. Now, what if the students he was diverting attention from are the ones who orchestrated this?” Dumbledore said, peering at us over his glasses.  
  
“Let us follow them,” James said. “We can sneak into Slytherin Common Room, figure out who it was, follow them to a meeting...and we can attack. If we nip it in the bud, we can catch whoever's been terrorizing Hogwarts and send them to Azkaban, and that'll serve--sort of as a--a warning. A don't-mess-with-Hogwarts-or-you'll-pay type thing.”  
  
Dumbledore frowned slightly. “No, I don't think so.”  
  
“But we can do that--it'll--it'll help.”  
  
“But James,” Dumbledore said, and there was something like pity in his voice. “That's much too rash. And _you_ are still under my protection.”  
  
“I'm of age,” James said, something dangerous in his voice  
  
“Even so, you _are_ still a student at Hogwarts.”  
  
“But I need to do something!” James said. “I'm leaving. I can afford it. I don't need to graduate, I--I could live for years without worrying about a job. I can hunt Death Eaters full time.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You're not letting me _do_ anything!” James shouted. “It's not _fair_!”  
  
“ Mr. Potter--”   
  
“I could _help_ and you're forcing me to--to take _exams_ and do _detentions_!”  
  
“ James--”  
  
“No! I won't do it! My parents are dead and I'm sick of sitting around waiting for the same to happen to me and my friends--I have to find trouble before it finds me.”  
  
“James,” Dumbledore said, sighing heavily. “You know I cannot let you do that. We need you _here_.”  
  
James was breathing heavily now, his fist once again clenched at his side. “Fine,” he said. “ _Fine_.” He stalked out of the room, punching the doorframe as he passed it.  
  
“ I should--” Remus said.  
  
“Yes, I think so,” Dumbledore said, inclining his head at Remus.  
  
“He doesn't--he's just had a rough time,” Remus said, almost pleadingly.  
  
“I understand,” Dumbledore said, and I thought that he probably did. “You ought to follow him now...wouldn't want him to catch any first years on his way to bed.” His eyes were twinkling slightly, and I wondered momentarily what type of a person could be so simultaneously cold and warm. It was, I thought, probably a necessary quality to have if you were going to be the leader of a secret anti-Death Eater group. The common good and all that.  
  
“Er,” I said when it was just Dumbledore and me in the room. “I should probably go too.”  
  
“Miss Evans,” Dumbledore said. “ _Be careful_. You are, after all, a Muggle-born...one who is hardly ever out of the spotlight...”  
  
“ I'll be fine.”  
  
“Yes, I think so,” Dumbledore said again. “You're hardly a quiet, rule-abiding Head Girl, are you?”  
  
“Professor, I--” I began, but he was smiling, albeit a little wearily.  
  
“You ought to get to bed, too,” he said. “I'm certain you will want to think about this...and a good night's sleep is always helpful...”  
  
“Yes, Professor,” I said, starting toward the door. “Goodnight.”  
  
“Oh, and, Miss Evans--give them a congratulations from me,” Dumbledore added. I looked at him inquisitively. “The Longbottoms,” he explained.  
  
I returned to the Heads' Common Room, where Sirius was gloomily eating a biscuit as the rest of the Marauders poked at the chicken and rice set out on the table. “Went down to the kitchens,” he said. “Everyone's gone to bed...they took some chicken with them, if you fancy hanging out with birds instead of blokes tonight. House-elves looked fit to cry, mind you...apparently they've been told to send anyone who goes down there straight to their Head of House.”  
  
“As if anyone was going to do anything to us,” Peter said. “We know everyone's movements before they do.”  
  
“What d'you mean?” I asked, turning to James. “What was that parchment you and Remus were looking at earlier?”  
  
“It's nothing,” Remus said quickly.  
  
“Why bother? It's a pointless secret at this point,” Peter said. “She knows everything else.”  
  
“What is it?” I asked, directing my question to James again.  
  
“Why don't you go ahead and ask _Caradoc Dearborn_?” he said, and then sighed. “I'm--sorry. I'm going to bed. Goodnight.”  
  
He kissed the top of my head and squeezed Peter's shoulder as he left, leaving be bewildered and alone with the other three Marauders.  
  
“What's _his_ problem?” Peter said.  
  
“He proposed,” Sirius said, looking at me pointedly.  
  
“And, what? Changed his mind?”  
  
“Evans said no.” Sirius was still looking at me. I looked away.  
  
“You did?” Peter sounded surprised.  
  
“Blimey, why can't _anyone_ believe that? It's not that strange!”  
  
“But...why?”  
  
I sighed. “Did McGonagall say anything about our escorting everyone to classes?”  
  
“She said to escort the Gryffindors to breakfast tomorrow, and then a prefect for the fourth years and two each to the third, second, and first years,” Remus said. “She said you were to escort the first years and James to escort the second years, but the rest is up to you to figure out.”  
  
“Thanks,” I said, standing up. “I'm going to bed, too.”  
  
“It's barely nine o'clock...”  
  
“I've got homework.”  
  
But in my bed, I lay awake for hours.  
  
Jane Brocklehurst...Andrew Murphy...Benjy Fenwick...all Muggle-born...but why them? There were plenty of others...  
  
And another thing was curious: why not wait until the school was completely full and in session? Why invoke such chaos now, when if they'd only waited a few weeks, attacks on Muggle-borns would have had to be rapidly forgotten in favor of N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s? It would have been so much easier to pick them off during classes...  
  
And why bother even bewitching all of those other students? They had to have known we would have figured it out quickly--the Death Eaters couldn't think we were all completely daft.  
  
But what if it wasn't even Death Eaters? What if it was just...angry Slytherins?  
  
Brocklehurst...Murphy...Fenwick...none of their names were in any pure blood family albums or tapestries like the one James had shown me or the one Sirius always talked about being blasted off of.   
  
Jane Brocklehurst. Andrew Murphy. Benjy Fenwick. What did they all have in common?  
  
At some point, I must have drifted into an undoubtedly fitful sleep, because it seemed like I had only blinked and the sun had come up, leaving me sore and tired. I was not quite ready to face the day, but thinking about James the night before, I figured I had to at least try.  
  



	33. Thirty Two

None of us were surprised when our professors seemed to have reinforced the notion that the upcoming N.E.W.T.s were the most important exams we'd ever take and began assigning us insane amounts of homework every night, but it  _was_  something of a hassle.

  
“Blimey, as if I need this class,” Sirius whispered from beside me in History of Magic one Monday morning. “Who even needs a History N.E.W.T. for their jobs...”  
  
“I do,” Marlene replied. “As does anyone who wants to do anything at all related to law or diplomacy.”  
  
“That's stupid.”   
  
“It makes perfect sense. You're just bitter because you're  _lazy_.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“Homework,” Professor Binns drawled from his usual spot hovering several inches above his desk, “will be two rolls of parchment on the war tactics of any three wizarding war leaders...I recommend  _Wizarding Wars and Horrible Holocausts_  for your research...”  
  
“Too soon for awful alliteration,” Remus whispered across the desk, and I had to contain my laughter.  
  
“Due in three weeks, along with the other two on half-breed discrimination and important technological advancements in the Wizarding World. I'll see you all next week.”  
  
“Merlin,” Sirius said as we left the classroom. “ _Six_  rolls of parchment in  _two_  weeks? You'd think that was an important class...”  
  
“I still don't know why you convinced us to take it,” James said. “It's absolutely unnecessary in every way...”  
  
Sirius blushed a little and Marlene grinned, poking him in the ribs. “He took it because  _I_ had to take it, didn't you?”  
  
“And dragged  _us_  with him.”  
  
“We're a package deal!” Sirius said.  
  
“We should have said no. I should have put my foot down, but  _no_ , Moony said I should indulge you because he  _always_  makes up our schedules and it'd be good to have someone  _else_  do it for a change...”  
  
“Let's go find the first years,” I said to Remus. “We'll meet you up for dinner in a bit...”  
  
Remus and I headed for Transfiguration, where, sure enough, a group of wide-eyed first years, including the one we'd met the other night, were waiting for us.  
  
“Why are  _you_  taking History of Magic?” Remus asked.  
  
“Well, I had an empty slot at that time, and I sort of wanted to go into law for a bit, too...then I thought maybe journalism...or I could be an Auror...but now mostly I think I'd just like to do potion development.”  
  
“Yeah, that'd suit you. Medicinal?”  
  
“Maybe. Caradoc Dearborn said he might be able to get me an apprenticeship with his mum...Blimey, do they have Aurors at the end of  _every_  corridor?” I added as we passed one.  
  
“Only the high traffic ones...I think the rest are just security wizards or trainees.”  
  
“How'd Dumbledore manage that?”  
  
“I think he probably pulled some strings or threatened some people,” Remus said. “But, no, potions development...That'd be great. You'd be brilliant at it.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“I--” Remus looked away. “I dunno. It's not--it's not easy for--for people like me to find jobs.”  
  
“Oh,” I said. “Right.”  
  
Filch glared at us as we passed him, mumbling something under his breath about “dirty children” who should learn how to “clean the soles of their shoes.”  
  
“Look on the bright side,” I said. “Once Filch croaks, you could always ask Dumbledore for his job...”  
  
Remus laughed. “Is that a bright side, even? Should we be paying more attention to the kids?”   
  
“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to walk backwards or something...”  
  
“Knowing you, it  _would_  hurt.”  
  
“That's cruel. I'll have you know I am the epitome of grace.”  
  
“Er, right.  _How_  many times have you been in the Hospital Wing this year?”  
  
“Hey, those weren't all my fault!”  
  
“Didn't you slip on some owl droppings and sprain your ankle?”  
  
“That was  _Alice_. I broke my wrist trying to escape James that same day...”  
  
Remus snorted. “Right. I'd forgotten. All right...first years, we have arrived!”  
  
He gestured to the Great Hall, and at least two of the first years rolled their eyes.  
  
“We know,” said one toward the front. “We're not  _new_ , you know.”   
  
“Could've fooled me,” Remus mumbled as the first years milled into the Great Hall in front of us. “Ah, well...can't have them all be brilliant mini-Marauders like Wood here...” He ruffled the first year in question's hair; the first year--the same one from the night we'd returned--beamed at him.  
  
*  
  
“Library,” said Remus after dinner, and I nodded in agreement.  
  
“We need to get that book for Binns' essay before anyone else does.”  
  
The lot of us headed to the library, Emmeline and Dorcas in tow even though neither took History of Magic.   
  
“D'you want to study here?” Remus asked, craning his neck in search of an empty table.   
  
“Nah, too many Ravenclaws,” Sirius said with disdain, and he was right: nearly every table was surrounded by too many chairs, in which sat almost exclusively blue-tied students. “Let's just get our books and leave...”  
  
“No surprise there,” Alice said. “Mind you, I'm surprised you haven't burst into flames just at being in here, Sirius...”  
  
“I know, I keep expecting to walk too far in and have Rowena Ravenclaw's ghost herself descend upon me...”  
  
“What was that book Binns wanted us to get?  _Wizarding_  something and... _Horrible Hair_?”  
  
“ _Holocausts_ ,” I corrected. “Here, it should be just over--here.”   
  
But there was only one left on the shelf; the seven of us looked at each other.  
  
“Scissors paper stone,” said Sirius.  
  
“Duel,” said James.  
  
“Race,” said Marlene.  
  
“I'm thinking of a number,” said Emmeline, and in the end it was decided that this would, in fact, be the deciding factor in our dilemma.   
  
Unsurprisingly, my guess of “Nine,” came in second to last, beating out only James's of “Ten.”  
  
“Two,” Emmeline said. “So that means--Sirius, Alice, Marly, Remus, Peter, Lily, James. Here you are.”   
  
She presented the book to Sirius, who frowned at it. “You mean I've got to write that essay  _soon_? Bollocks...”  
  
The librarian glared at us from across the room, and several nearby Ravenclaws were doing the same.   
  
“Prigs, the lot of them,” Sirius said, practically marching toward the door. “Blimey...”  
  
And so it went: each day, I'd go to class, escort the younger students to their classes, have dinner, study, and patrol. I had barely enough time to eat two meals a day--I'd started skipping my lunches to practice spells with Alice--and sleep six hours a night, let alone give any more thought to the case of the mysterious attacked Muggle-borns or my relationship with James. It seemed almost like a blessing in disguise, our estrangement, as it greatly benefitted both my amount of free time and, surprisingly enough, my sleeping patterns: there were no more late nights snogging or groping each other, and that time was devoted now to sleep and homework.  
  
And yet their names circulated through my head, still, like a drone behind all the other thoughts: Brocklehurst. Murphy. Fenwick. Any time I stopped studying or patrolling or talking for even a second, the question of their connection returned--in the shower, in the loo, in History of Magic while I doodled glasses and stars and dogs into the corners of my notes.   
  
It was not until two weeks after our return to Hogwarts that anything resembling news of the Muggle-borns' attacks showed up in the  _Daily Prophet_. The headline read, “ **You-Know-Who's Demands of Dumbledore** ,” and below it was a much too short article, nearly eclipsed by a portrait of Dumbledore shaking his head sadly at the camera.  
  
“What is it?” James said, noticing me drop my paper into my porridge.  
  
“Have you seen this yet? Listen...”  
  
“ _Though the_ Daily Prophet _has no record of recent threats made to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the so-called Dark Lord's statement seems clear,_ ” I read. “ _'Only the purest of blood or you will see my worst,' can only be translated one way..._  For Merlin's sake, do they think their readership are  _completely_  thick? Journalism at its best, this.”  
  
“Don't tell me it's the journalism that's got you all riled up,” Sirius said, grinning, a little half-heartedly. “Does it say anything else about Hogwarts?”  
  
I skimmed the article. “No...well, it does say that Dumbledore refused to give a statement, and that the Minister of Magic dismissed the matter entirely as ramblings of a madman...”  
  
“A madman who's killed hundreds,” Alice said darkly. “If there's one madman whose threats  _I_  wouldn't ignore, it's that one's.”  
  
“So you'd stop accepting Muggle-borns, then?” I said, raising an eyebrow incredulously.  
  
“Don't be stupid, of course not. I'd just--arm the school, I suppose.”  
  
“But that's what Dumbledore's been doing, though,” I said. “That's what the Aurors are here for...that's what  _we're_  here for...”  
  
“Keep your voice down,” Remus said.  
  
“Still,” I said. “Voldemort can't possibly think Dumbledore would listen to this...Dumbledore doesn't answer to threats.”  
  
“But they're not just threats,” Marly said. “He  _did_  have Muggle-borns attacked.”  
  
“Still...Dumbledore would never...”  
  
“Sure,  _Dumbledore_  wouldn't,” James said, frowning slightly and looking toward the staff table as if for answers.  
  
“What d'you mean?”  
  
“I...dunno.” He kissed me on the cheek and stood. “Come on, then, time to escort some first years...”  
  
It was not until lunch that I had time to process any of the information in the  _Prophet_ ; Alice was sneaking off to see Frank, who was stationed at the school this week, and I was left to my own devices. I could have actually eaten lunch, but I had a stash of pasties from the kitchens and a barely touched box of Honeydukes' best in my room and thought it might be best to get a head start on McGonagall's most recent Transfiguration essay.  
  
The private common room was empty when I first entered it and walked into my bedroom, but when I left--mainly to find a more comfortable place to sit, as my spot on my bed was starting to hurt my back (and this was my strongest indication that I was indeed becoming an adult)--I found that it no longer was.  
  
“Sirius?” I said, and the figure stretched over the couch shifted and looked at me.  
  
“Lily,” he said, rubbing his eyes absently. “Morning...”  
  
“How long have you been here?”  
  
“I...dunno. A few minutes, maybe. What time is it?”  
  
“Half past noon. What are you doing here?”  
  
“Wormtail's in the Hospital Wing...he's got flu or something. And Moony's got a girl over, so I'm giving them their privacy...which is why I'm here.”  
  
“And James?”  
  
“I dunno where he is, actually...I think he may have said something about Quidditch tactics or something...bit of a nutter, that one.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Ah indeed,” he said, then, noticing my armful of pasties, cried, “You've got food!”  
  
I offered him one and sat down across from him, setting down my box of chocolate and cracking open my Transfiguration book.  
  
“Blimey, Evans, wasn't that box of chocolates nearly full this weekend?”  
  
“Yeah, it's...been a long week.”  
  
“It's  _Tuesday_.”  
  
“Bollocks,  _really_?”  
  
Sirius snorted.   
  
“Listen, Sirius...a few months ago, when I was in the Hospital Wing, I saw...I saw Regulus.”  
  
Sirius's expression darkened immediately. “So?”  
  
“He...Well, Dumbledore said he was being used as a sort of...diversion.”  
  
Sirius leaned forward, putting his head in his hands and sighing. “And he was probably involved in these, too...”  
  
I nodded. “Exactly.”  
  
Sirius sighed again, not looking up at me.  
  
“Are you...all right?”  
  
Sirius looked up at me finally. “It's just--we used to be so close,” he said, looking away again, at the fire, as though embarrassed. “Like--like best friends. And he was clever, but he's always been--I dunno--easily influenced. By our parents first, and then by Mulciber and Avery, and I guess now by Voldemort...and I know he's a right git now, and probably a little evil, but you have to know he used to be a sweet kid who was sweet to our house elves when our mum made them punish themselves.”  
  
“That's what my sister and I were like.”  
  
“I know,” he said. “Have you spoken to her at all--since--”  
  
He was referring, I was sure, to the letter Petunia had sent me months ago disowning me immediately after our father's death. I sighed. “No.” I stared at the table I'd accidentally set on fire then; Sirius was eyeing it almost threateningly. “I do miss her,” I said.  
  
He looked at me again. “But there's nothing you can do about that now, is there.” He said it like a statement, flat and deadpan, not like a question.   
  
“No,” I agreed. “But she's not--the person I miss isn't the same Petunia that exists now. She's--a part of history, I suppose. Even if she  _wanted_  to see me, she wouldn't be the Petunia I played with when we were kids.”  
  
“You're right,” Sirius said, sounding almost defeated, but grinning and reaching for my chocolate instead. “Better lay off the Honeydukes, Evans...wouldn't want to lose your 'best legs' award.”  
  
“When did I win that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Sometime around fourth year,” he replied. “I won't tell you what the rest of your friends got, you'll think we're all misogynists.”  
  
“You  _are_.”   
  
“Indeed.” He popped another chocolate into his mouth, then looked at me thoughtfully, head tilted to the side and mouth curving downward. “Why did you say no to Prongs?”  
  
I exhaled through my teeth. “I knew that was coming.”  
  
“Course you did.”  
  
“I guess--for the same reason I refused to be with him in the first place. I just--it's obvious that the war, and Voldemort, are messing with our emotions, right? And I don't think--I know what I feel for James is real, but the war--it has to end sometime. And I'm just worried that--that we won't feel the same once there's--peace, I guess, and--I don't know. I just don't want to feel like I'm getting married just to defy Voldemort, or as a way to--to get all the important milestones of life out of the way so I'm all...set up to die. And my parents didn't married until they were in their mid-twenties...Muggles don't usually get married until after university, you see, and university starts after secondary school, which is--”  
  
“I know what the Muggle school system is like,” Sirius interrupted. “I took Muggle Studies, you know.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah, third year, it was awful, but that's not the point. The point is--you can't let fear of Voldemort influence your relationships to that extent.”  
  
“But fear of Voldemort--and the desire to stop him--has taken over most of my life. I used to want to be a  _lawyer_ , Sirius, and now all I want to do is stop the prick.” But even _that_  wasn't even really it, I thought, and ran a hand through my hair absently before stopping myself.  
  
Sirius stared at me for so long I started to feel uncomfortable. “Fine,” he said. “But why are you telling me this when it's  _Prongs_  that needs to hear it?”  
  
“You asked.”  
  
He stared at me for another long moment. “Blimey, you two are both  _so_  bloody  _stubborn_.” He stood and stretched. “Come on, we've got Defense...let's see if Saggese's decided to be on edge or normal today...”  
  
“I've got to escort first years...”  
  
“I think you might be late...better hope Moony can handle a bunch of tetchy eleven year olds.”  
  
“Blimey, they  _are_  tetchy, aren't they? I swear we weren't that bad when we were eleven...well, maybe  _you_  were...”  
  
He slung his bag over his shoulder and held the portrait hole open for me. “I'll have you know I was an  _extremely_  well-behaved first year at least seven percent of the time...and, really, you can't ask much more than that from a clever and hilarious eleven year old.”  
  
“Do you ever get sick of being so arrogant?”  
  
“Nope. Do you ever get sick of being such a prig?”  
  
“Nope. Shall I bother trying to find Remus, or should I just go to Defense?”  
  
“We'll see them on the way,” he said, and sure enough, we did run into the group of first years as they made their way to Charms.  
  
“Hello, Lily. Fancy seeing you here,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow but smirking good-naturedly.  
  
“Sorry,” I said. “I got--distracted.”  
  
Remus glanced at Sirius, frowning a little, and there was a split second where Sirius's betrayal of Remus seemed to hang heavy in the air between them, and I sort of wondered how I'd never noticed it, before Sirius rolled his eyes. “Relax, we were just talking...honestly, Moony, it's like you don't  _trust_  me...”  
  
“With your track record, I probably shouldn't,  _especially_  with a girl alone in a room. Or  _not_ alone, depending on your level of inebriation.”  
  
Sirius stuck his tongue out, and the moment passed.   
  
*  
  
Their names rotated through my head again that night, as if there was some invisible line connecting them. There had to be something, I thought, some reason that  _these_  three Muggle-borns and not others had been chosen...perhaps they knew about Benjy's involvement with the Order, or perhaps they simply hated prefects...but that didn't make any sense...But why these three? Why--and this, undoubtedly, was the reason for my torment--why were  _they_  the three chosen to be attacked and sent to the Hospital Wing and not  _me_? But that was silly, of course...I hadn't even been at the school...which brought me to the  _other_  question I kept asking myself: why attack when they did?  
  
And thus I lulled myself into what seemed like the fiftieth straight night of fitful sleep.  
  
“Evans. Hey.  _Evans_.”   
  
I opened my eyes; Sirius was poking me in the ribs later that night with his wand, his face gaunt, terrified. “ _Evans_.”  
  
“Sirius?”  
  
“Evans, come quickly...come quickly...hurry...”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Just come...” He grabbed my hand and pulled.  
  
“Is it James?”  
  
“Evans,  _please_ \--there's no  _time_...”  
  
But as I followed him out of the girls' dormitory, something changed; the world around us seemed to dissolve, and Sirius's face became his brother's, the same but completely different, a pointier chin, paler eyes, shorter hair...  
  
“Sirius?”  
  
“Regulus,” Regulus corrected, still dragging me along by the hand.  
  
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, realizing suddenly that I was powerless to stop.  
  
“Petunia's wedding.”  
  
“What do you know about Petunia?”  
  
“Everything.”  
  
“Why did you attack the Muggle-borns?”  
  
“Don't you want to see Vernon marry Petunia?”  
  
“What's going on?”  
  
But even as he pulled me through Muggle London, the world changed around us again; now, the man pulling me was Snape, his grip around my hand vice-like as he dragged me toward a hooded figure that turned on us, its eyes like red slits burning straight through me. I screamed; the figure laughed; there was a flash of red light, and then--  
  
I was awake. In my bed, in the Head Girl's dormitory, at Hogwarts, alone. My heart was pounding against my ribcage, and my breath was heavy and shaky. I lay there momentarily, staring at the ceiling, before immediately rushing to the toilet and dry heaving into it for what seemed like hours.  
  
“Lily?”  
  
I turned to the opposite door, which, in my haste, I hadn't bothered to lock. It was, of course, James.  
  
“Hi,” I said weakly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before straightening and flushing the toilet.  
  
“Is everything all right?”  
  
I nodded, though suddenly I rather missed the comfort of sleeping while curled against him.  
  
“Are you sick?”  
  
The image of Voldemort flashed through my mind, and I found that I rather wanted to cry. Instead I rinsed my mouth and spit into the sink, stared at my reflection in the mirror. James was still standing in the doorway.  
  
“I'm fine,” I said. “I just--I had a dream.”  
  
“Do you want me to take you the Hospital Wing?”  
  
“No, I'm all right.”  
  
“What was your dream about?”  
  
“I don't remember--Voldemort, I think...and Sirius...Petunia...”  
  
“You dreamt about Sirius?” His voice sounded just a little higher than usual.  
  
“Or maybe...maybe it was Regulus...”  
  
James was watching me with a curious expression on his face; he walked toward me and hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around me, curling his fingers in my hair. “I miss you,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.  
  
“I miss you too,” I replied against his chest, and for a moment it was like it had been before, and he smelled like pineapples and sweat and  _James_  and--  
  
And he pulled away suddenly, ran a hand through his hair, looked almost tortured. “Merlin, Lil...” He sighed. “I'm going back to bed.”   
  
“James...”  
  
“Goodnight, Lily.”  
  
“Goodnight, James.”  
  
It was late enough--and I unsettled enough--that I knew there was no way I was going to get back to sleep, and yet I didn't even attempt to study. Instead, I lay in bed, playing with the hem of my shirt and feeling quite badly like I wanted to cry.  
  
*  
  
The Muggle-borns who'd been attacked knew nothing of their attackers, as I discovered over the next few days once they'd all woken up.  
  
“I wish I could remember, Lily,” Andrew said when I went to visit him in the Hospital Wing (rather comically attempting to conceal a cigarette. “My mate Danny's asthmatic and Pomfrey says they'll kill me,” he said apologetically). “It's all...shadowy, you know? Last thing I remember's going to have lunch the day before I was attacked.”  
  
“I don't supposed you noticed any Slytherins lurking while you were eating said lunch,” I said dully.  
  
Andrew laughed. “Nope. Sorry.”  
  
“How are you laughing? You've just been  _attacked_...I would probably be hiding under a bed somewhere hoping to never see another Slytherin again...”  
  
“I can't even remember feeling hurt,” Andrew said. “Way I see it, I got to take a two week vacation.”  
  
I stared at him. “Bloody Hufflepuffs.”  
  
Jane was no more helpful. “Why d'you want to know, anyway?” she asked suspiciously. “Not going to have Potter take care of them, are you?”  
  
“Course not,” I said, sighing. “It's just--Dumbledore and McGonagall asked me to try and figure it out so they'd know who to punish. Because I'm--er--Head Girl.”  
  
Jane rolled her eyes. “I've already  _told_  them I don't remember a thing...all I know is my leg hurts and Pomfrey says she's already given me too much pain potion.”  
  
“Sorry,” I said, not feeling it. “Feel better.”  
  
And Benjy, each time I went to visit the Hospital Wing, was sleeping, often with Kevin Abercrombie or Nora Daniels visiting, but I was sure that he, like the others, would prove to know nothing at all.  
  
*  
  
It was an awful sort of monotony, worse than the type associated with relationships when they grew old and boring or even school when it was unassociated with things like the Order and Voldemort. It was the type of monotony that came with the failure to figure out who had tried to kill students and who could still be trying to kill students, the type of monotony that came with a relationship that seemed to be falling apart, the type that came along with a set of friends who were nearly all practicing Quidditch nearly all the time or consummating (and re-consummating) their marriages or new relationships, the type that made me almost wish for a deadly struggle with some Death Eaters, if only to have a dash of excitement beyond assigning a detention or two to a student out of bed at night.  
  
It was a monotony that made me all the more determined to figure out who had attacked those particular Muggle-borns, and why, a monotony that had me looking up their family names in old Wizarding geneaologies even though I half knew I would find nothing.   
  
It was a monotony that had me planning half my schedule around James's so that I would run into him more often as he returned from Quidditch practice or the bathroom just so we could have some actual interaction, a monotony that had me stealing potion supplies from Slughorn and using them to brew hangover cure and Pepperup and bone-mending and sleep potions just to have something to do other than study.  
  
It was a monotony, however, that did not last past the first Sunday in May.  
  
“Some columnist wrote an analysis of Voldemort's threats,” Remus said that morning, smirking slightly at his paper. “She says there's no chance he'll make good on them because he needs public perception of him to remain high...what does she think he is, a _politician_?”  
  
“As if he needs political power,” Marly said darkly, buttering her third piece of toast. “Bit scary, isn't it? That someone can completely control the Wizarding World and not even have a seat in the Ministry?”  
  
“That's a good thing, though...institutional evil is always more terrifying than the chaotic sort, because people can listen to the institution and not feel bad about it,” Alice said. “Just look at Hiter. He was institutional evil, but Grindelwald was chaotic evil; Hitler killed twelve million people and the Germans didn't make a peep; Grindelwald killed a few hundred thousand and the entire Wizarding World descended upon him.”  
  
“Who's Hitler?” Marlene asked, just as Remus said, “That's not the same thing.”  
  
“Who cares?” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair and staring at the enchanted ceiling. “Point is, we're all royally screwed...pass the kippers, Lawr--er, Longbottom...”  
  
Alice snorted but handed him the plate and turned to me. “What d'you think, Lily?”  
  
“I think Hitler was terrifying but Voldemort's worse,” I said, frowning. “Only because--well, he's a wizard. He could do what Hitler did in five years in five  _minutes_.”  
  
Alice frowned, but dropped the subject as James rose.  
  
“Spectacular conversation, mates. Off to Quidditch practice, then. Come on, Black...McKinnon...Vance...”  
  
Peter, too, sprang up to follow him, and Remus, rolling his eyes, followed suit--though I noticed he did so only with a bag bulging with what could only be books.  
  
“Shall we practice spells?” I asked Alice, but she shook her head.  
  
“I can't--I'm sneaking out to meet Frank.”  
  
“Sneaking out?”  
  
“Courtesy of the Marauders.”  
  
“Ah. Dorcas?”  
  
“I can't, either--Caradoc's one of the Aurors on duty at Hogwarts today and I said I'd keep him company.”  
  
With nearly everyone either at Quidditch practice or, like Alice and Dorcas, on a date, I was left to my own devices. I worked on homework until I had nearly finished everything I had due the next week, except for Transfiguration practice and the last Binns essay--I was still waiting to receive the necessary textbook from Peter, who had gotten it the week before and dashed immediately up to the Gryffindor boys' dormitories to--presumably--begin his essay but had not yet seen fit to pass on the book. There was always the option of a stroll on the grounds, but as the Quidditch pitch was the only place  _not_  currently banned for students' safety, and as I hardly wanted to watch James like one of his ridiculous groupies, I thought a stay in the castle was more in order.  
  
Thus, it was with a heavy mind and slightly anxious stomach that I settled into my bed mid-afternoon for what I felt was a well-deserved nap.  
  
“Lily. Hey.  _Lily_.”  
  
“Mmph?”  
  
“Lily.  _Wake up_.”  
  
I opened my eyes. “Peter? What time is it?”  
  
“Around nine...listen, here's Binns' book,” he said, holding it out. “I've finished.”  
  
I sat up. “Peter, the essay is due  _tomorrow_. It's  _nine at night_.”  
  
Peter ran a hand through his hair, an action I felt sure was borrowed from James but which lacked his carelessness. “I know. I'm sorry, only--only Remus only gave it to me last Monday, and I had flu...”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“I'm  _sorry_...remember, James has to write  _his_ , too, and he hasn't had it yet either.”  
  
“ _Christ_ , Peter...”  
  
“I'm sorry,” he said again, staring at his feet.   
  
I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “Don't worry about it. Listen, Pete, I'm going to start this essay, so if you could just...”  
  
“Right,” he said quickly. “I'll go now.”  
  
“How did you get in here, anyway?” I asked suspiciously.  
  
“You didn't lock the door.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “Right.”  
  
Peter laughed. “A Marauder never reveals his tricks, Lily dearest,” he said, and for the first time he sounded utterly carefree. I was almost proud of him.  
  
Still, I glared at the book in my hand before following him out of my room, feeling rather stupid for having apparently slept through the day  
  
Surprisingly, James was already sat in the Head's Common Room, cross-legged on the floor beside a table, sketching what looked like Xs and squiggly lines all over the place.  
  
“What're you up to?” I asked.  
  
“Planning Quidditch tactics for the match in a couple of weeks,” he replied, not looking at me. “It's just--I think Slytherin have got a new offensive move, but I can't figure out what exactly it is from the ground, and it's risky to fly under an Invisibility Cloak because you never know when the wind'll blow it off.”  
  
“Try the Astronomy Tower,” I suggested.  
  
“I  _have_ , I'm just not getting all the angles...maybe I can add some kind of recording device to one of the hoops...”  
  
“Like a camera?”  
  
“Don't be stupid, Lil, you know photographs don't work like that.”  
  
“Er...right.” I rolled my eyes. Bloody pure bloods.  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“What about me what?”  
  
“What are you up to?”  
  
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “Peter's just given me that book we need for the Binns essay.”  
  
“Yeah, he was just here...said he was sorry for being so late.” James snorted. “As if I need much time to write it...”  
  
“Merlin, you're arrogant.”  
  
“Residual side effect of the Quidditch practice. Sorry.”  
  
“Don't be.” I sat down across from him and opened the book, which, over the course of its circulation from seventh year to seventh year, had accumulated several coffee stains and now smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and what reminded me suspiciously of firewhiskey. “Listen, James--”  
  
“I don't exactly have time for this right now.”  
  
“I only meant--listen, the essay's due tomorrow, and I pity the circles under your eyes.”  
  
James looked up. “Says the girl who bewitches the puffiness away. Don't think I don't catch that, Evans,” and that stung, a little, not the insult so much as the use of my last name.  
  
“Let's just--look, we can both use the book at once, it won't even take that long, look, I've already got a skeleton mapped out, I just need to fill it in with actual...you know...facts.”  
  
And thus began our essay-writing, with James scratching his lower lip absently with the end of his quill--he had ink on chin and there was a moment when, while deep in thought, he looked sort of stunningly beautiful and I had to look away or risk being dazzled by the prick, who wasn't even really that good looking most of the time and had really just happened to catch the light well in that moment--and me mumbling facts under my breath as I copied them down, carefully adding page citations after them.  
  
“I don't know why I'm even still taking this stupid class,” James said in frustration several hours later, after flipping through the book for a specific statistic at least twice. “If I'm going to be an Auror, the last thing I need to know is why Cedric the Brave hated giants.”  
  
“That's utterly irrelevant to this essay,” I said.  
  
“I know, but I still haven't written the other ones...”  
  
I snorted. “Course not.”  
  
We returned to our work, both reading from the same page on Grindelwald's psychological warfare. “Ridiculous,” I mumbled. “Killed a Muggle in every village he visited...mostly to ward them off but also so his threats would be more credible...”  
  
And then suddenly, it clicked. “James, what if--”  
  
But James was already looking at me, eyes wide. “We have to go to Dumbledore.”  
  
We practically sprinted through the deserted castle to his office, coming to a halt only when we reached the gargoyles. James looked at me, his gaze strangely piercing.  
  
“Listen, Lily...”  
  
“We'll talk after,” I interrupted. “I promise. Just--let's explain this first.”  
  
James gave me a long, hard look.  
  
“I  _promise_ ,” I said again, and James nodded.   
  
“Pixie puffs,” he said to the gargoyles, who moved aside.   
  
“What if he's asleep?”  
  
“We wake him up.”  
  
I knocked hesitantly on the door. “Professor?”  
  
“It is open,” Dumbledore's weary voice said from the other side.   
  
I pushed the door open and entered; Dumbledore was in his dressing gown, but he looked regal as ever behind his desk, gazing into the contents of a Pensieve and absently stroking his phoenix's back. Surprisingly enough, Professor McGonagall and Elphias Doge were both also in his office, also watching the Pensieve, almost as if it were a telly. I half expected McGonagall to pull out a bucket of popcorn.  
  
“We think we've figured it out,” I said.  
  
“The Muggle-born attacks. Or at least, why they were attacked.”  
  
“It was because of a History of Magic essay we had to write--”  
  
“And they won't be attacked again, we don't think--”  
  
“On Grindelwald, and we thought it was really similar to this--”  
  
“Except the Muggle-borns are the Muggles here, right, but not all of them--”  
  
“Because that'd be stupid, and you'd catch them too easily--”  
  
“But fear's easy, anyone can make other people scared--”  
  
“Right, and people who are scared are bloody  _stupid_ \--”  
  
“And scaring everyone could get him what he wants--”  
  
“And he doesn't even have to kill anyone--”  
  
“Even if he probably wants to--”  
  
“He can stop his Death Eaters from getting in trouble, though--”  
  
“And that's good because it means more spies here--”  
  
“Which he obviously wants, because of  _you_ \--”  
  
“See, Lil, I  _told_  you students could be Death Eaters!”  
  
“I think I figured that out a while ago, James.”  
  
“Potter, Evans,” McGonagall interrupted. “ _Do_  make yourselves a bit clearer...it is late, you see, and I would like to be getting to bed.”  
  
“Yes, I'm afraid I can't quite follow this,” Doge said. “My mind is not what it used to be...”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous, Elphias, you're as clever as ever,” McGonagall said, and there seemed to be the slightest of winks passed from her to Doge; perhaps this was her version of flirting.  
  
The thought of McGonagall having any sort of romantic relationship, however, was not one I had much time to linger upon.  
  
“Well,” I began. “You know how Grindelwald used seemingly random but actually fairly systematic Muggle attacks to let the Wizarding World knew he meant business? That he wasn't just some nutter who liked Muggle baiting?”  
  
“We think that's exactly what Voldemort is doing here,” James said. “Only--on a completely different scale. Because there's the lesser extent, right, which is to dissuade Muggle-borns from attending Hogwarts, which is why the attacks happened so late in the year. They won't even know yet, most of them, and when they find out they'll want to know all the information possible.”  
  
“And also why there's been an attack from each house,” I said. “Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff--all except Slytherin, which is  _notorious_  for only accepting the 'purest of blood' or whatever, as if that's even possible anymore. Which, of course, is why the  _Prophet_ can't know--but you already knew that part.”  
  
“The bigger part is that Voldemort infiltrated Hogwarts,” James said.   
  
“Think about it,” I said. “Everyone needs to be able to believe their children are safe at their school, that the school is the safest place in the world, and usually, that just means there's a curfew and a set of prefects to keep kids in bed after hours so they don't sneak out, but at Hogwarts, it  _actually_  means it's the safest place in the world. You can attack people in public, even in their homes, but Hogwarts has hundreds of security measures, dozens of prefects who are all fairly good at defensive magic, the children of the Order of the Phoenix and half the Order itself, hundreds of students who can use more than their fists to defend themselves, and, of course,  _you_.”  
  
“Exactly. And if Voldemort can break that, if he can make it seem like an illusion, it ruins the credibility of--well,  _you_ , Professor--but it also shatters people's fantasy of security. It's the ultimate scare tactic. And that's the  _other_  reason to keep it out of the  _Prophet_ \--people can't have that security broken, or they start to lose faith--and Voldemort  _thrives_  on that.”  
  
“And there's the possibility that he sort of wants to discredit you, but I think that's just another scare tactic--because you're so highly respected, if everyone thinks you failed to do your job, then they stop trusting you, which means they stop trusting the most powerful wizard alive, which means they start to lose faith.”   
  
Dumbledore frowned at us. “But I  _did_  fail to do my job; three Muggle-borns were attacked on my watch. Voldemort's plan succeeded.”  
  
“But it didn't, don't you see? Because nobody knows about it except us, and even then all anyone  _really_  knows is that there were a bunch of fights and three students ended up in the Hospital Wing for a while because they were hurt so badly! And that's why that threat in the  _Prophet_  seemed so stupid!”  
  
McGonagall snorted. “Honestly, Albus, I thought you were joking when you made James Potter Head Boy, but it seems you were right.”  
  
Dumbledore smiled a little. “At least I did not choose Severus Snape.”  
  
“Yeah, he was probably in on it, if not the mastermind,” James said. “Because, right, most of the older pure blood families were all at Alice and Frank's wedding, which means the school was mostly weeded of pure bloods, at least the non-Slytherin ones. That's probably why they attacked during the holiday--”  
  
“But it could also be for maximum impact,” I interrupted. “No one has classes to distract them, and the attacks also took away everyone's distractions--other than Gobstones and Exploding Snap, that is.”  
  
“Right,” James said. “But it also made for a smaller chance of screw up. But every old pure blood family knows each other, at least a bit--I can't identify all the Notts, but I can sort of say they're pure bloods because I've seen them in an old family album or family tree. So that means the person who planned all of this  _can't_  have been a pure blood--which leaves us with Snape.”  
  
“But what about Regulus Black? He was definitely not at the Longbottoms' wedding, because I helped Alice with her guest list and we certainly did  _not_  want to invite any of Sirius's immediate family...”  
  
“Well,” James said, frowning. “I s'pose--Sirius said his mum always kept them away from the blood traitor families, which I guess is why I'd met all the Lestranges by age eight but didn't meet Sirius until first year--so Regulus probably knows all the  _evil_  pure bloods, but not, like, the Hufflepuffs. So he'd need the castle to be empty of them, too. But then, how'd they know the people they were attacking were all Muggle-borns and not half bloods?”  
  
“They probably just asked. Y'know, it's astonishing how much information people will give if you're just  _polite_ , James.”  
  
“What, just going up to someone and asking them their blood status is polite? Where can I register for classes at the Lily Evans School of Etiquette? Can I enroll as a full time student? Do save my from my barbaric ways, Professor Evans.”  
  
“Not their blood status--something simple, like what their parents do. My dad was a dentist and my mum worked at a supermarket to put herself through university, but then she just stayed with Petunia and me. See? Now you know they were both Muggles.”  
  
James frowned. “And, of course, the other bright side to the holiday is that all of  _us_  were gone, and we've been a thorn in the Death Eaters' side for at least a year. They're not thick, they know we patrol every night...maybe they think we do more than that, or that there are more of us, or something. And they knew we'd all be at the wedding. It's sort of genius, really.”  
  
“Yes,” Dumbledore said at last. “Yes, I think that is probably the most accurate version of events one could come up with...But what of the random fights throughout the school?”  
  
“I dunno about that,” James said slowly. “Surely if they planned all that, they were clever enough to know we'd trace it back to the Slytherins...none of them got  _attacked_ , for Merlin's sake.”  
  
“Maybe--I don't know, maybe it was some sort of test,” I said. “Because to be a Death Eater, 'Imperio' and 'Obliviate' have to be two of the most important spells, right? To bewitch people to do your bidding, and then erase it later so they can't even confess to the crimes. Or maybe it was actually supposed to be a diversion and it was just some daft prick's clever plan.”  
  
“Probably Avery,” James supplied, and Dumbledore concealed a chuckle.  
  
McGonagall, however, looked far from amused. “I'll fetch Horace,” she said. “So he can punish his students.”  
  
“Are you going to expel them?” James asked, sounding almost hopeful, but Dumbledore shook his head, smiling a little sadly.  
  
“Alas, I hardly think that would be wise...once before, I taught a wizard who I let escape my watch. I have regretted it ever since.”  
  
Doge, meanwhile, was watching us. “Blimey, Albus,” he said. “You've done a terrific job on these two...never seen such deduction...Listen, Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, I run a private detective firm in London...Muggle and wizard, and you'd never believe the amount of traffic we get...if you're ever in need of a job, don't hesitate to call me.”  
  
“Thanks, sir,” I said, and James nodded beside me.  
  
“But something else is missing,” Doge said. “There are dozens of Muggle-borns at this school, and though  _you_  were on holiday, Miss Evans, the Death Eaters could have attacked any...why those three in particular?”  
  
I thought about it, but outside of prefect meetings, I barely knew Jane Brocklehurst, and in fact, could barely think of anyone that did...  
  
And then it clicked. “It's not some huge conspiracy,” I said slowly. “At least--I don't think it is. I think...I think it was just the most convenient choice of Muggle-borns at the time. Jane Brocklehurst is a prefect, but she's also a  _bitch_ \--sorry, Professor--and I don't think she has very many friends.” I immediately felt awful, and resolved to sit with her at lunch the next day. “So she was probably alone, maybe in a bathroom or coming back late from the library...”  
  
“Bloody Ravenclaws,” James piped up, and Doge laughed.  
  
“Andrew Murphy's a smoker,” I continued, ignoring him. “And...he's got an asthmatic mate, maybe an asthmatic  _room_ mate, so of  _course_  he goes outside to smoke...and maybe he was coming back when he was attacked. And then Benjy Fenwick...”  
  
“Benjy Fenwick's best friend is Kevin Abercrombie, who was home for the holiday,” James said. “Not to mention he's always wandering off alone at night--Lily and I have caught him at least twice a month since we started patrols.”  
  
“They  _are_  brilliant, Albus, you were right,” Doge said, and I felt a rush of pride that was doused only by the stark realization that the people we were discussing were, in fact, _people_.  
  
As if on cue, McGonagall returned, Slughorn in tow.   
  
“Merlin, Dumbledore, what's this about? I was having the most  _lovely_  dream about the Prime Minister...”  
  
James did not conceal his laughter; at the noise, Slughorn turned to us.  
  
“Ah, Miss Evans! I missed you at the last Slug Club party, you know.”  
  
“I didn't stay at school for the Easter hols,” I said. “Alice Lawrence married Frank Longbottom.”  
  
“Ah, yes, I did hear about that...genius, their child will be...”  
  
“Brave, too,” murmured Dumbledore. “Horace, I must ask you to bring me three of your students: Regulus Black, Severus Snape, and Matarus Avery.”  
  
“Really, Albus, can't this wait til morning? I've had quite a lot of mead, you know, and my bed is quite comfortable...”  
  
“Now, please, Horace,” Dumbledore said, and Slughorn sighed and, once again, departed.  
  
Dumbledore turned to us. “The two of you had better be gone before our culprits get here...wouldn't want your, er, covers blown, as they say.”  
  
“I don't think we ever had any covers,” James said. “Any chance we can get extensions on those History of Magic essays?”  
  
Dumbledore looked at us for a moment. “No, I don't think you did,” he said, almost to himself, and then, “I will talk to Professor Binns. Goodnight, Miss Evans, Mr. Potter.”  
  
“Goodnight,” we chorused to the three adults in the room.  
  
James took my hand as we walked back to the common room. “We make a good team,” he said, and suddenly it was far too much like he had put a ring around my finger instead of just wrapped his hand around it, and I wanted desperately to tug it away.  
  
“Yep,” I said, a little nervously.  
  
James stared at me when we reached the common room, as if expecting something--probably, I thought, because he  _was_  expecting something, and had every right to.  
  
“Lily,” he said, but I faked a yawn.  
  
“It's been a long night,” I said. “I think I'll head to bed.”  
  
James stared at me for another along moment before saying, “Yeah, me too.”  
  
I heard his door slam from the inside of my room and bit my lip because I had royally, royally screwed up.  
  
*  
  
Dumbledore called us into his office again the next morning after breakfast. He looked at us rather gravely, but his voice was even and calm when he uttered his first sentence: “We were wrong. Those were the wrong Death Eaters.”


	34. Thirty Three

“What d'you mean, the 'wrong Death Eaters'?” James repeated, his voice incredulous.

Dumbledore was frowning, his fingers steepled and wrists wresting on the desk in front of him. “Your ah--deductions--seemed mostly correct, except for the three Death Eaters you thought were the culprits. Regulus Black, Matarus Avery, and Severus Snape certainly are, at the very least, working with Lord Voldemort...but the plot does not seem to be entirely their fault.”

“How do you know?”

“We questioned them all individually using Veritaserum. The only ones who knew anything about the plot were Mr. Black and Mr. Avery, and Mr. Black was only involved in the diversion, not in the plot itself. Mr. Avery, however, was knee-deep in the plot, though he does not seem to know who else is involved. Whoever was the mastermind planned for this well.”

“So--what do we do now?” I asked. 

“Do you want us to like--investigate?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I'm afraid not, Lily, James. Though you would no doubt be effective, I think some subtlety is required here.”

“We're plenty subtle,” James said, though I was thinking about one of our many very public fights and figured Dumbledore probably had a point.

“Please tell your friends. We need to create a group that is ready to fight at any time, and another that is ready to spy at any time...I have my own sources within the Death Eaters, but they will not last forever and cannot provide us with an infinite amount of information.”

“You've got Death Eater spies? Who?” James asked.

“Let's just say a few men owed me a few favors,” Dumbledore said grimly.

“Right,” I said. “Well--if that's all...”

“Yes, best be off to class,” Dumbledore said. “Enjoy History of Magic...I hear Professor Binns has a very exciting lesson planned for the seventh years.”

James snorted, but I bit down on my lip, still a little worried about not having finished my essay. James and I made to leave the office.

“Oh, and, Miss Evans, Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore said just as I opened the door. 

We turned to him, waiting for him to drop yet another bomb.

“Do make up soon,” he said. “We could all use a good love story.”

“Alice and Frank,” I reminded him, just as James said,

“Sirius and Marly.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “You've just proved my point.”

Unwilling to attempt to decipher whatever it was that Dumbledore was saying, I pushed through the door and made my way to class, not even bothering to glance at James as I did so.

And so it was that a few days later, James and I still hadn't spoken, because whatever I'd told Sirius, I was avoiding this particular confrontation like the plague.

I went out to find him, though, because I'd been having trouble sleeping and because I missed the feel of his fingers running through my hair and because I loved the way his body felt curled around mine and because I could really go for a shag and because I hated the awful masked look in his eyes of late. 

It was my experience that, were one ever to lose James Potter, one could find him in a variety of places: lurking in a broom closet, typically with a girl or Sirius Black; the kitchens; the Hog's Head, getting pissed for a lark; the dungeons searching for some Slytherins on whom he could take out his anger; or the Quidditch pitch, flying around aimlessly.

Having eliminated the first possibility due to his assumed fidelity, the third due to his lack of blatant alcoholism and the other three Marauders' presence in the Gryffindor common room, and the fourth due to his apparent emotional and mental growth in the past year, I made my way to the kitchens, half hoping he'd be there moping and eating mincemeat pie and treacle tart. 

“Er--hi,” I said to the twitchy house elf who spotted me first.

“Hello, miss!” the elf squeaked. “Miss is not supposed to be here!”

“I know,” I said. “And I'm--sorry, but I was looking for a friend. Er--James Potter? He's got glasses and...really messy hair? And--”

“Snook knows James Potter, Miss!” the elf said. “He was here a few hours ago for his dinner.”

“But he's gone now?”

The elf nodded. 

“Ah...thanks, Snook...”

“Miss is very welcome,” Snook said. “Can Snook get anything for Miss, since Miss is here already?”

“Er...have you got any of those cauldron cakes from dinner?”

Snook did not, as it turned out, have any cauldron cakes, but I did end up leaving the kitchens with a bundle of food that, rather depressingly, would likely only aid me in my self-imposed study-driven hermitage. I left the bundle of food in my room, spelling it to repel any insects or mold, and, having eliminated the kitchens, made way out to the Quidditch pitch.

It was a bit of a hassle, sneaking out; it wasn't even that late, but Aurors lined the corridors and were glaring at students returning from or making their ways to the library. Only the Head Girl badge on my chest protected me from such scrutiny, but even I had trouble getting out of the castle.

“I've got--Quidditch practice,” I lied, hoping the Auror in question knew nothing of the school's Quidditch teams.

He inspected me. “You haven't got a broom.”

“It's in the broom shed,” I said. “Please, I'll be late...”

“No one else has left.”

“They're all flying out of the Astronomy tower,” I said. “But I left my broom in the shed after practice last week, and now I haven't got it, so I had to go out this way.”

“You can fly out of the castle through the Astronomy tower?” the Auror asked, alarmed.

Hell if I knew. “Er, yeah...it's harder to get in, though...and usually Filch's cat is lurking around there, waiting to give you a detention, so we tend to avoid it.”

“Merlin,” the Auror said. “All right, all right, you go ahead...I need to call Caulson and tell him about this...”

I didn't ask who Caulson was, though I thought he might be the Auror in charge of the school's security. In any case, I made it outside before it was properly dark out.

The pitch initially seemed deserted, but it had been years since the lack of appearance of a person had been enough to convince me of lack of presence. 

“James?” I called, thinking he might be under his Invisibility Cloak, but he did not appear. I looked up, thinking he might be flying around the school, but that, too, resulted in nothing. “Merlin... _where_  are you, Potter?”

“Lily?”

It was James's voice, but it seemed to come from nowhere, or, more likely, from some spot high above me. I looked up again, searching the darkening sky. There, silhouetted against the setting sun and positioned haphazardly beside a gargoyle, sat James. 

“James?”

“Come up here!”

“How?”

“ _Fly_ ,” his magically amplified voice replied dryly.

There was a full minute where I thought I might be able to convince him to come down instead, but as this whole mess was  _my_  fault in the first place--well, no, it was  _his_ , though its prolongation was probably mine--I decided to just fly up there.

It was with a faint sense of amusement that I actually did end up breaking into the broom shed, stealing a broom, and mounting it, and though my lack of real flying skill certainly affected my rise toward James, it was surprisingly easy to steer toward him, much like riding a bike with none of the pedaling or even much of the balancing.

I reached James, who looked impressed despite himself, within only a few minutes. 

“C'mere,” he said, setting down a cigarette on the marble beside him and helping me off the broom, which hovered obediently beside his. He still wore the bracelet I'd given him for his birthday. 

“You're smoking,” I said.

“I am.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “It's--it was my dad's last pack of cigs,” he said quietly. “I found them when I was looking for your ring.”

“You'd already had it?”

“It was my mum's. She--would you believe?--she told me she wanted me to have it after fifth year...I came home sort of upset and kind of--well--hung up over you, and she told me that one day I'd find a girl who loved me and that I should give her the ring.” He pulled the ring out of his pocket, turned it over in his fingers. “She'd have liked that I offered it to you, I think. She always liked irony.” This he said with a wry smile. “Too bad that's what killed her...a Healer who poisoned her. Multiple levels of irony.” He put the ring back in its box and the box back in his pocket. “I suppose it doesn't really matter, though, does it? What is marriage, anyway? Or--what's the point? It's just a meaningless legal bond on a relationship that probably can't even last.”

“James,” I said softly, closing my eyes. “Relationships can last. My parents' did.”

James sighed. “I know. My parents' did, too.” He picked up his cigarette again, relit it with his wand, took a drag, coughed. “I'm awful at smoking.”

“Tell me about your parents.”

James did not look at me, only ran his free hand through his hair and then tapped his fingers arhythmically against the statue beside him. “They were--good,” he said. “My dad always battled anti-Muggle-born legislation in the Ministry; he basically made it more his job than what he actually did, which was sort of to organize the Aurors. He was a field Auror for a few years when he was younger, I think, but he wasn't very good at it.” He smiled ruefully. “But they realized he was good at strategy and diplomacy, so they put him in charge of all of that, and he used that power to stop raids on Muggles and Muggle-borns, and I guess that's why he was targeted.” He ran his hand through his hair again and dropped the butt of the cigarette, paused to light a new one. “My mum was the same. She's--she was--the last of the Tarmonts, an old Wizarding family, and the sole heir to the entire Tarmont line. They weren't very--fertile, I guess, the Tarmont women...didn't have many kids, and when they did, they died young. I'm one of the only ones in a generation that's actually made it through Hogwarts...well, almost. And she didn't have to work, because the Tarmonts were loaded, so she used her money and influence to advance a pro-egalitarian message, and when Voldemort started to rise to power, she used every opportunity she had to speak against him. My parents, you see, were the diplomatic side of the war Dumbledore's got us fighting...if we're the soldiers, they were the politicians.” James ran a hand through his hair again. “What about your parents?”

“I told you, remember? My dad was a dentist--that's a sort of Muggle Healer that works with teeth--”

“Why d'you need one of those? Do Muggles have awful teeth?”

“They just don't have the same capability we have to clean and straighten them with magic, so they have to have dentists do it for them. And my mum stayed at home with us--Petunia and me--until Petunia did her A levels.”

“What're those?”

“They're like N.E.W.T.s for Muggles. Anyway, after that, my mum took a job as a substitute teacher, just to fill the time and help Petunia pay for university. My parents weren't as--as important as yours,” I said, a little lamely. “But they were good people...they donated to charities when they could, and when one of Petunia's friends' parents kicked her out they let her stay at our house until she could afford her own flat...”

James curled his fingers into my hair. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat. He lit another.

“My mum spoiled the shit out of me,” he said, smiling fondly. “Anything I ever wanted...an expensive new broom, whatever toys I wanted...she always said if she was going to help other people, she had to help her son first, but it didn't really make sense because she was spoiling me and trying to get basic wizard rights for others.” He laughed a little. “Anyway, my point is, the reason I'm kind of a prick is that I was never really--really disciplined or anything, as a kid. And I'm not complaining, because I had the greatest childhood, even though I didn't have any cousins or anything...but I learned how to fly when I was only four with my dad, before Voldemort started rising to power and he spent all his time at the office.” James ran his hand through his hair yet again, and this time did not return it to my hair. “There was one time when he missed Christmas morning...I think it was the first year that Sirius spent it with us...it was awful. I don't think I'd ever been as disappointed in anyone until then, and I was only like fourteen, so I didn't really understand--” There was desperation, suddenly, in his voice. “Lily, you have to know--I was--I was really, really stupid, and really immature, up until I had to grow up, and in retrospect I can tell that I wasn't--I wasn't the best of people when I was a kid, and not everything I did was moral or ethical or whatever, but you have to know that that's just because I didn't--I didn't  _know_ , and I didn't get it, and I'm better now, I really am--”

“James,” I said softly. “I know that. I told  _you_  that, remember?”

James ran a hand through his hair again, tossed his fourth cigarette butt out. “Two left,” he said, looking at the pack. “Want one?”

“Smoking kills.”

“So?”

“Good point.”

He handed me a cigarette, lit it for me. I took a drag and coughed. “That's awful,” I said.

“I know, right?” He laughed.

“Why'd you smoke them all? You could've--I dunno--just saved them or something.”

He shrugged, then sighed, looked at me, then away. “The thing is,” he said, this time tugging at his hair instead of running his hand through it. “The thing is, I'm--I'm trying really hard to care, right? That--that smoking is bad, not that it ever hurt my dad or that I'm actually a smoker, but I can't even really care about things you'd think  _do_  matter. Like--like school, you know? I was so ready to leave that night, when we were talking to Dumbledore...it's not--I just don't see the  _point_  anymore, and I just can't make anything seem like it matters. It's just--nothing really does, you know? We all  _die_. Voldemort is too big, and even if he wasn't, we'd have died anyway...of disease, or falling off a cliff or something...”

“James--don't you remember what you said to me?” I said, pulling his hand away from his hair and replacing it with my own. “Months ago, when all I wanted to do was hide--you said this isn't about survival. It's about--it's about love. About fighting to keep those you care about alive, not for victory but for the triumph of  _life_. Not to stop evil, or--or destroy it--but to stop it from taking over life.” 

James closed his eyes, sank into my hand a little. “Don't you remember what you said in response to that, though?”

“Probably something stupid about how confused and conflicted I was.”

“You told me I wasn't worth the effort.”

“James.”

“Lily.”

I closed my eyes, bit down on my lip. “I need to tell you why I said no.”

“Yeah, I think you do.”

“I guess it's sort of--the same reasons I didn't want to date you in the first place, kind of, right? Like, I don't want to let this war and what it's done to my life affect my emotions to the extent that they change me as a person. And--when the war ends, I don't want to--to have peacetime change me, too. And I guess the reason I didn't want to tell you that is--I didn't want to disappoint you...I know you thought I'd moved past that, but I just--I guess I haven't, not entirely, anyway.”

“So what you're saying is you don't think you really love me.”

“No, that's not it, it's just--look at Alice and Frank. They've been together forever, but they only just got engaged this summer. They fell in love  _before_  their lives changed, and they  _still_  probably rushed into their marriage. It's like they--they needed to get married to be together, and they  _don't_ , and that's an outdated rule from a time when people were more religious, but--but that's not my point. I just--we've only even been friends for like a year, and I don't want to jeopardize our relationship by forcing it to happen too quickly. And it just feels like if we get married now, that's what we're doing, and we're also giving in to Voldemort--letting ourselves get caught up in the fear of dying and getting married because of it. Like admitting that we can't win or--or--survive. That we have to rush in order to fit in all our goals before we inevitably get killed by our own recklessness or--or--bravery or whatever. But we don't have to do that, because we're--we're clever, and powerful, and we've got the Order, and we love each other, and that--that should be enough.”

“You're right,” he said almost immediately. “It  _is_  enough, sort of. But your reasons for my wanting to marry you are all wrong. I only--I don't think I'll ever find someone else like you, and I don't see the point in pretending we're not going to be together forever.”

“But you can't know that. And I don't see a reason to make that decision this early--Muggles don't usually get married until they've finished school.”

“We've nearly finished school.”

“Yeah, but Muggles go to school until they're into their twenties...sometimes later. And we--we're not done changing yet as people, I don't think. Maybe we'll fall out of love, and be trapped in a loveless marriage...”

“You're scared you'll fall out of love with me.”

“Of course I'm not. I'm afraid we'll change.”

“We won't.”

“We can't know that.”

“I'm just scared,” he said, “that we won't be able to--to have what Alice and Frank have. I mean--we've almost been killed dozens of times. And I don't think there's much of a chance of my changing any more than I have in the last couple of years. I think this might be my peak.”

“I love you,” I said again, and it felt like a promise. “And you love me. And we're committed to one another. But I'm not ready to tell you that I'll always be this person, and I'm not ready to deal with it if you don't end up liking the person I become. And...let's face it. I'm not ready to be a widow if you die, either.”

“So you  _don't_  think it's worth that risk--that  _I'm_  worth it.”

“You know that's not what I meant,” I said. “If you--if you die, at this point, I think it'll be as awful as it would be if we were married.”

“If we were married, you'd inherit everything.”

“Are you trying to buy my hand in marriage?”

“A little,” James admitted, leaning into me now, and it felt good to have our bodies be so close together, even if our location was a little terrifying and the ground was horribly far below us.

“But I'm not saying I won't ever want to marry you. I  _do_  want to. I'm just not--ready--yet.”

“I'm going to keep asking you,” James said. “Until you are ready.”

“Maybe you  _haven't_  actually changed.” 

He kissed me. “Course I have.” He kissed me again, pushing us both dangerously close to the edge of the wall we were sat on. “Didn't used to be able to do that.” He kissed me again. Then he pulled away, his face suddenly thoughtful. “I went to see your sister.”

“ _What_?” 

“When I--the next day. I thought I'd just find her...I dunno...washing dishes or something.”

“But?”

“She was...Lil, she was crying. I knocked on the door and she opened it for me, and I guess she recognized me because she let me in and made me a cup of tea...but she'd clearly been crying.”

“Why?”

“I dunno...I wanted to ask, but you know, we're not exactly close.” He smirked a little. “She  _did_  ask me about Sirius, though, so if you want her to have an affair and divorce that Vernon bloke you just have to convince Marly to play along...”

“Why'd you go there in the first place?”

He shrugged, blushing a little. “I wanted--well, she's your only family, and--I don't know. I didn't think about it, really, I just...”

“Please tell me you didn't ask for my hand in marriage.”

James, at least, had the shame to blush deeper. “I know it was stupid, because you'd already said no, but--I don't know. I didn't know if maybe it was because of her that you didn't want to get married, because you didn't like her husband, or because--I don't know--you wanted her to be at the wedding...”

“James Potter, that might be the most thoughtful thing you've ever done for me, you awful prick.”

“But I also--I don't know. We'd talked about her, remember? And...I sort of wanted to see if she was all right. If--if she missed you, or...if she was...”

“Dead.”

“Yeah. I figured since you haven't had contact in months, you'd never know...and Death Eaters haven't exactly veered clear of your family up until now, so...”

“That's why you went to see her?”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I thought maybe the reason you said no was her. Or that she could explain it. Or--or something. I don't know. I thought if I could fix things between you...”

“I'd want to marry you.”

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“I thought maybe you--you didn't want to get married without her. Because she was your best friend.”

“She  _was_  my best friend. She's not anymore. I've got--I've got Alice, and Marly, and you, and Em and Dorcas and the Marauders...and you're the greatest friends I could have hoped for. As for Tuney...I just hope she's safe.”

“Maybe you should write her.”

“Maybe I should pay her a visit.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe  _we_  should go back inside...I told the guards I was out for Quidditch practice.”

James snorted. “And they bought that?”

“How'd  _you_  get out?”

“Astronomy tower.”

“Wait, that really works?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We probably shouldn't go back in that way...I may have inadvertently alerted that Auror to the existence of that window and its usefulness for sneaking into and out of the building.”

James snorted. “Good thing you're currently sitting next to the master of sneaking into and out of that building...C'mon.”

We remounted our brooms, and he snuck us in through an underground, extraordinarily secret passageway known only to people with extensive knowledge of the school: the front doors.

“They have to let us back in,” he said brightly. “Because we're Head Boy and Girl! We were patrolling outside!”

“You're ridiculous,” I said, but he was right, though the Auror I'd spoken to earlier did glare at me suspiciously as we made our way back to our common room.

“How much do you miss me?” James said, sitting down next to me as I started a Transfiguration essay.

“Not enough to put off writing this for any longer.”

He laughed, and it was unbearable to resist anymore, so I kissed his open mouth--or, at least, his lower lip--and pulled him down on top of me, tossing my quill aside. 

“I love you,” I said softly, and

“I miss you,” he said back, then frowned at me. “Listen--what's going on with you and Caradoc Dearborn?”

I snorted. “He's my secret lover. We've been shagging wildly every evening for the last six months.”

“Ah. Glad that's it, then,” James said, his mouth so close to mine that I could taste his breath.

Needless to say, I put off writing the essay for quite a bit longer after that.

*

James's words about Petunia stayed on my mind all week, until, finally, I thought the best way to handle whatever was going on was to visit her. There was the option of waiting until school had finished, but the week had been fairly packed with studying and homework, and I thought leaving Hogwarts for the day could only serve to lower my stress level.

I snuck out on Saturday morning under James's Invisibility Cloak, through the Shrieking Shack secret passageway (“You know,” I told him, “it's probably not very safe to have all these secret passages unguarded all over the school.” “Way I see it, if they've figured out how to access all of them, they probably deserve a chance at my life,” he replied), and Apparated to the address James had given me earlier that day.

The Dursleys lived in a large white house that looked like all the other houses on Privet Drive; the only difference between their house and the houses immediately to the left and right was that the Dursleys' lawn seemed quite a bit drier than the others, perhaps because Petunia had never had much of a green thumb and Vernon was undoubtedly always working.

It had been ages since I'd seen Petunia, and even longer since I'd gotten along with her. I walked up to the door, and, once under the cover of her porch, took off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into my bag.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and rang the doorbell before I could change my mind.

It seemed to take Petunia a year to answer the door, and in that year I couldn't help but wish our relationship was as good as it had been all those years ago, when we'd played together in the park or when she'd helped me out with my math homework or when we'd argued about trivial things like chores or dolls. I bit down on my lip, looking back at that dry, dry lawn and tugged on a lock of my hair.

“Lily?”

I turned. Petunia did not look pleased to see me.

“Er...hi,” I said, and she frowned.

“What's going on, Lily? Your friend James came to see me a few weeks ago, and now you...I thought I told you I didn't want to see you again.”

I ran a hand through my hair nervously before realizing what I was doing and stopping myself. “I--I know. But James said you--you were crying, and I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

Petunia looked around quickly. “Did the neighbors see you arrive?”

“I don't think so.”

She waved me into the house. “Come in, then.”

The house was ridiculously clean. I'd never seen a floor as shiny as Petunia Dursley's. She sat me down in the living room, where the telly was on but the volume was not, and offered me a glass of wine.

“Petunia, it's not yet noon.”

She shrugged, and I realized how awful she looked; her eyes were puffy, and her face was thinner than it had been the last time I'd seen her. Her collarbones jutted out over the top of her dress, and the fingers holding up the bottle of wine were skeletal, the wrist attached to them even more so.

“Petuna,  _is_  everything all right?”

Petunia's face crumpled into tears very suddenly, and I found myself at a loss for what to do. If we'd still been kids, I would have hugged her, and if she was anything like a friend to me, I would have attempted to comfort her, but in this case I did not know what to do, and so I reached out and very gingerly patted her shoulder. She leaned forward, covering her face with her hands and barely making a sound.

“Oh, Lily,” she said at last. “It's a-a-awful.”

“What's wrong?”

“I c-c-can't have a b-baby! Vernon j-j-just wants a daughter, and I c-c-can't have one!”

“ _What_?”

“We've b-b-been trying since we g-got married, and b-b-but when I went to the doctor, he told me I w-wasn't fertile,” Petunia said, blowing her nose loudly into a handkerchief.

“Why don't you adopt a child?”

Petunia glared at me. “Don't be ridiculous, L-Lily.”

I sighed. Of  _course_  Petunia wouldn't want a child that wasn't hers--what would the neighbors think? “What did Vernon say?”

“I haven't t-told him! I d-don't know what to do!”

I closed my eyes. “Petunia, there are...I could help you.”

Petunia buried her face in her hands again, and in this way I knew she was truly desperate; had she known of another way to get pregnant, she would never have even considered using magic to facilitate the process.

“How?” she said quietly, not looking at me.

“There are potions...maybe spells, too...”

“Potions? And they--they really work?”

I nodded. “They should,” I said. “I just have to--it might take a while, at least one ovulation cycle, to brew the potion, and then it could take longer after that to take effect, especially since you don't have the magic gene--or if you do, it's extremely recessive, so the potion won't be able to feed off it. It might take years, Tuney.”

Petunia visibly flinched at the old nickname, but she frowned and looked at me. “Years? But it would work?”

I nodded. 

She looked down at her lap. “But it's not  _normal_ ,” she whispered.

“Petunia,” I said, sighing. “I can help you. I can--I can fix this problem for you. Magic can be  _good_.”

She glared at me. “Magic is  _unnatural_ ,” she said, finishing her glass of wine. She was not looking at me, but at a photograph on the wall that could only be a much younger Vernon; it was a large baby, and I was sure I could see the beginnings of a thick mustache on the baby's upper lip. 

“Well, I'm going to go back to Hog--to school,” I said, giving up on her at last. “Send me an owl--er, a letter--if you change your mind.”

I stood and started to walk away, but Petunia sniffled a little and, really, she  _was_  my sister--I started back toward her, again unsure of how to react.

“Fine,” she said. “Fine, I'll do it.”

I moved forward to hug her, but she shrank into the couch. Fine.  _Fine_.

“I'll send you an owl,” I said. “If I need anything.”

“I won't have owls coming in at every hour of the day,” Petunia said, sounding like herself. “People will notice...it's not normal!”

I sighed. “You're going to have to deal with it.”

“Fine,” Petunia said, and this time she did not try to stop me as I left her house, although when I reached her door, “Lily,” she said.

I looked around at her.

“I just--” She stopped, closed her eyes, brought a hand to her mouth and held it there for a moment. “Thank you.”

I nodded and left, but James's fear for Petunia's life made me feel suddenly uncomfortable. I threw his cloak back over my head and set out making wards around the entire street. They were all spells I'd only done in my room at Hogwarts, and only on a very small scale, but I'd managed to stop myself from killing a fly once and I hoped I'd achieve the same--at the very least--now.

I stood back, admiring the faint shimmer of my shields as they faded from sight. Petunia's house was now properly protected, and hopefully she--and my future niece or nephew--would stay safe. There was only one thing missing, I thought, surveying my work and pointing my wand at the lawn.

When I left, the grass was a brilliant shade of green.

*

“Come on, then,” I told Marlene as she examined her hair in the mirror later that day. “The meeting's about to start, and I've got to open the door for everyone...”

“Is that what Dumbledore's reduced you to? Official Order Door-Opener?”

“It would appear so,” I replied. “Come  _on_.”

“You're sure you don't think this looks awful?” she asked, tugging at a lock of her newly dyed hair. Instead of her typical blond, the hair was a violent tomato red, much more vivid than mine. “I don't look like a soulless ginger?”

“Mar _lene_ , I  _am_  a ginger, you know!”

“Yeah, but you don't  _act_  like one...”

“You look great,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Come  _on_ , we've got to go...”

McGonagall was already seated on a tall-backed armchair when we entered the Common Room. 

“The Apparition wards are down for this room,” she told me, sipping from a large mug of tea. “All the Order members should be able to get in without a problem.”

“Er--all right,” I said, sitting down awkwardly across from her. She'd already laid out a few maps on the table, and Marly was now examining them with interest.

“What're these?”

“They trace Apparitions from Hogsmeade over the last three months,” McGonagall replied. “We're looking for a pattern.” She pointed out a few blue lines that someone had inked onto the parchment. “These are all the ones that occurred the week leading up to a student's attack. The ones with green are the ones done by or around a wizard with the Trace. The red circles point out the locations of the places people Disapparated to.”

“But how does that narrow anything down?” Marly asked.

“Well, we know which ones were done around Regulus Black, and where he was Apparating.” McGonagall tapped a few of the red circles with her wand, and they started to glow. “Frank Longbottom and Alastor Moody have the names of all the patrons of those establishments on those days.” She was smiling a little. “We just have to wait for them to arrive.”

As if on cue, a series of  _crack!_ s could be heard as a dozen wizards Apparated into the room at once. 

“Hello, Minerva!” Dedalus Diggle said, beaming and taking off the top hat he always wore before nodding at Marly and me and sitting down in a chair I was sure had not been there earlier that day. 

The rest of the Order members crowded into the room, Conjuring chairs when there were none left and managing, somehow, to fit everyone in at once. I'd never seen every single member of the Order in one room, but here they all were, smiling warmly or smoking or sipping tea or wine. 

Dumbledore stood at the front of the room, but it was Moody who spoke, relaying the same information that McGonagall had given us while pointing everything out on magically projected versions of the maps. Frank took the floor next, reading out the names of the Hogwarts students who'd been at the circled locations, all three of which were pubs and one of which wasn't even in Britain.

“All we have to do now,” Dumbledore explained, “is figure out what their next movement is. We do that using our underage members.” He gestured to the group of us crowded on one of the couches, including a recently-released from the Hospital Wing Benjy Fenwick. “The lot of you will be listening for everything you can, and we'll send you to a few specific locations as soon as we hear of them.” He smiled at us, then continued to give Order members various instructions regarding the actions they were to take in the following weeks.

“And finally,” he finished, smiling again, his eyes twinkling. “As we've never all been in the same room...I think it only fitting to take a photograph to commemorate the moment, no?”

The room filled suddenly with murmurs, and I had no doubt as to why: there were people in the room with families, people with high-level Ministry jobs, people whom the Death Eaters probably thought were working for them.

Sturgis Podmore was the first to voice concern: “Are you sure that's wise, Dumbledore?” 

“What if someone sees it?” Frank asked.

“I assure you, it will not fall into the wrong hands,” Dumbledore said. “I am, you will agree, quite good at keeping secrets.” 

The murmurs died down, and as Dumbledore predicted, everyone agreed that the photograph would likely be safe with him. It was Hagrid who set up the camera, and we lined up according to size like the class photographs I'd been in during primary school. 

James wrapped an arm around me; we stood between Sirius and the Longbottoms, whose beaming faces clearly expressed their enjoyment of all being together. 

Benjy Fenwick stood in front of us, flanked by the Emmeline and Remus. Sturgis squeezed through to the back, beside the sweet Caradoc Dearborn and the easy smiles of the Prewett twins. 

“Take off that awful hat, honestly, Elphias,” gruff but pleasant Edgar Bones said from next to the strange Aberforth Dumbledore. “You look ridiculous...you'll spoil the picture.”

“This hat exudes elegance,” Elphias said, sniffing, and McGonagall laughed.

“I think it's lovely,” she said, and when Elphias smiled at her she blushed in a way that seemed very out of character.

Peter returned from the loo as Hagrid tried to figure out the self-timer and, seeing that the only row that wasn't over-packed was the one we were in, slipped between James and me. “Sorry,” he whispered, though he smiled when Hagrid said, “All righ', say cheese!” and ran into the frame beside Caradoc.

The shutter clicked; the flash went off; the moment felt like the beginning of a legend.

 

**A/N:**  And there it is! What do you think of Lily's explanation? Where do you think I'm going with this story? The dates/timeline are fairly important to the last couple of chapters...

That said, I think (think!) there will only be one more chapter (and maybe another just to tie up loose ends) before the epilogue. Please leave a review--they make me write faster :)

Oh, and by the way--my frequent mentions of Caradoc Dearborn are because I've become somewhat obsessed with his character since starting my new L/J fic, in which he plays a fairly central role. The first chapter will be posted within the next few weeks, so if you enjoy my writing/melodramatic romance/intense imagery of people smoking cigarettes, please keep an eye out for it!

  



	35. Chapter Thirty Four

****

Chapter Thirty-Four

Marlene McKinnon was sitting on the floor next to me, smoking a cigarette and exhaling away from my cauldron.

“I just need some more essence of murtlap to repair whatever's not working in her womb,” I mumbled, stirring the potion with the tip of my wand and glancing at the potion manual, which claimed making the potion without murtlap would do the job just as well. That, I decided, was bollocks.

“I can nick some from Slughorn's office,” Marly suggested.

“No, there's some in that cabinet there, I think,” I said, pointing.

Slughorn had very kindly allowed us to use his classroom and supplies in our potion-making--though, naturally, Marlene wasn't allowed to do anything to the potion except sit next to me as I brewed it.

I'd been wrong before: the potion did not require one ovulation cycle, though I thought it was probably smarter to at least let it sit for twenty-eight days before Petunia could drink it. I planned to go see her the very next weekend, before she could change her mind.

“Lil, I can _hear you_ grinding your teeth.”

“Thanks for noticing, Marlene I-smoke-cigarettes-for-breakfast McKinnon.”

“I'll have you know I usually have a pile of toast and bacon with those cigarettes.”

“Even better.” I looked back down at the book. “Are you ovulating by any chance?”

“Hell if I know. Why?”

“I need essence of an ovulating female for this potion. Like...hair or something.”

“Maybe Pomfrey can give you a hand with that.”

“Please, like I'd ask her...maybe I'll just add one of my own hairs every day for a month until the potion works...”

“There's probably an easier way to do that.”

I flipped through the book. “You're right...I have to make a potion to test my own ovulation, and then I can add essence of me whenever that happens.”

Marlene snorted. “So weird.”

It was some minutes later, a little high off the fumes from the potion, that I told Marly, “Marly--oi, Marly--you look like fire with the smoke and the hair and all.”

Marlene giggled. “Well, _you_ look like...like...spaghetti!”

“My hair's _red_!”

“Spaghetti with sauce!”

We were giggling for quite a while after that, until finally Marlene smartened up. “We should probably ventilate this room...”

“I think you're right...”

“Honestly, Lil, one day you're going to go mad with all the potion fumes you inhale.”

“I think that may have already happened...I am _dating_ James Potter...”

“Remind me again why you're not engaged?”

“I've _told_ you, I don't want to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of our relationship...and we've only been together a few months, and anyway, I love him and that should be enough.”

I was getting tired of defending the choice not to marry James to everyone; if we were still together in a year or two, then marriage would be an option, but for Merlin's sake, I'd even been dating Calvin longer than James when _he'd_ asked me to marry him, and no one had thought I should accept _that_ proposal...

I blew my hair out of my face. “I think I'm done here,” I said. “I just need to monitor it for a few weeks, add some of my hair, and then I can take it to Petunia.”

“Good,” Marlene said, standing and stretching her legs.

“I think I'm going to the library...I've still got that monster of an essay for Slughorn...”

“Maybe you can get him to excuse it since you've been brewing difficult healing potions all week.”

“I wish,” I said, snorting. “You coming?”

“Nah, I've got Quidditch practice.”

“Of course.”

“Potter's working us to the bone...honestly, Lil, I don't think you're doing your job right. He's scheduled eight practices this week, _and_ we've got exams coming up...”

“Well, it's his last match, you know what he's like.”

“I s'pose,” Marlene said. “Anyway, I've got to go meet everyone up. I'll see you later.” She swung her bag under her shoulder and departed, leaving me hoping to find a free spot at the library in the wake of exams.

*

“Lil.”

“Mmm?”

“Marry me?”

“Hmm?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Maybe.”

“Tomorrow.”

“In ten years.”

“Five.”

I turned around so I was facing him. He was looking directly into my eyes, and I wondered absently how well he could see without his glasses on. His pupils looked massive in the semi-darkness.

“Seven,” I whispered, and he pulled me closer, kissed my head.

We woke up entangled and sweaty, but it was the best night's sleep I'd had in ages.

*

“Lily! Remus!” Dorcas called, catching me by the arm as Remus and I dropped a group of first years off at Defense Against the Dark Arts. “Listen”--she dropped her voice--“McGonagall's just told me they figured out which students were the ones behind the attacks.”

“Yeah? Which ones?”

“She didn't say,” Dorcas replied. “But I bet we could figure it out?”

“Well, what's Dumbledore waiting for? Can't he just expel them?”

“He would,” Dorcas said, smiling grimly. “Except that they fled last night.”

“ _What_?” Remus said. “How'd they find out?”

“McGonagall didn't say exactly,” Dorcas said. “But I think she thinks it's a leak from the Ministry side of things--I mentioned getting the Aurors to try and find them, and she just frowned and said they weren't trustworthy.”

“So what are they doing?”

“Trying to figure it out. Dumbledore says we should be ready to go out this weekend.”

“ _This_ weekend?” Remus said.

“Us?” I said.

“But that's the Quidditch final,” Remus said. “Not to mention the rest of the Order--”

“I don't know anything else,” Dorcas interrupted. “We're all to meet with Dumbledore Wednesday night and he'll tell us everything we need to know.”

“Hey, Meadowes!” a voice called as we walked to Flitwick's classroom. “I hope you break your arm!”

“Real clever,” she shouted back to the Slytherin wishing her ill. “At least I've got one worthy of breaking!”

“Get to class, Snyder,” Remus said. “And no magic in the hallways, I'll dock points.”

Snyder stuck his wand back into his pocket, having been caught by Remus halfway through an incantation. I rolled my eyes.

“Did he think a Tripping Hex was enough to take out Dorcas Meadowes? Honestly...”

Dorcas snorted. “Thank you for your confidence, Lily,” she said, “but I think a better-aimed one probably could have....I'm getting a little worried about this match. Probably not the best time to have a group of Order of the Phoenix members playing a group of junior Death Eaters.”

“Symbolic, isn't it,” Remus said, frowning. “Bit dangerous, even.”

The taunts did not stop upon our arrival in Flitwick's classroom; I slotted into the seat beside Marly and was immediately accosted by the same flying bits of parchment being sent at the back of her neck.

“What's the point of that?” I asked as Flitwick started to lecture.

“Just ignore it,” she said, just as Flitwick turned around to write on the blackboard and Sirius aimed a barrage of parchment balls back at the row of Slytherins in the back of the classroom, waving his wand and causing the parchment to pelt the Slytherins so hard they recoiled. Remus yanked him back into his seat just as Flitwick peered over his shoulder to ensure we understood.

“That one's a winner, Mar,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Don't know why I didn't think to snag him first...”

“Oh, shut it, James is charming all their shoelaces so they tie together under the tables.”

Sure enough, James's hand was invisible beneath the table, and though he had one eye on Flitwick, he was muttering ceaselessly under his breath.

“Well--at least James is subtle, I suppose.”

“Miss Evans,” Flitwick said, looking directly at me. “Would you mind explaining the difference between an Undetectable and Detectable Extension Charm for the class?”

In that moment, I was suddenly quite grateful to my year-long bout of insomnia, as I'd figured out how to do both months ago. I rattled off the definitions of both quickly, finishing with, “It is supposed that the creator of the Fidelius Charm added the undetectability to the regular Extension Charm, as his work with undetectability is the best known to wizardkind.”

“She's coming along nicely,” Sirius muttered to James, who turned to wink at me.

Flitwick nodded. “Precisely. Now, Mr. … Black. Can you remind us of the incantations for the two?”

Sirius gaped at him, and I mentally congratulated myself for having--at long last--one-upped the Marauders at not paying attention.

*

Alice Longbottom (it was strange to call her that now, but it was true, wasn't it?) was in a sour mood.

“Frank's mum hates me,” she said, glaring at the bit of parchment in front of her. “She thinks I pressured Frank into marrying me.”

“And she told you this in a letter?”

“No,” Alice admitted. “Frank said he was fighting with his mum and I just _know_ it was about me...”

“How could you even pressure him? You're a student, he's an Auror...”

“She kept hinting at something,” Alice said, turning a little red and not meeting my eyes. “Just before the wedding, I mean.”

“At what?”

Alice still did not meet my eyes. “I think--I mean, she doesn't know. Or--she didn't.”

“Know what?”

“That I was ever--pregnant.” The word came out stilted, sort of broken, and it sent me reeling: I'd forgotten all about Alice's lost baby, but Alice--judging by the wetness of her eyes when they met mine--had not. “I just--should we have told her?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. She's not--I mean, she already thinks you pressured him into marrying you.”

“She's not _awful_ ,” Alice said. “She's just--worried about her son, I suppose. I just wish she would _trust_ me.”

“She's probably just worried you're stealing her son from her,” I said. “After all, he lives alone, he's always at work, and when he's not at work he visits you.... She probably just misses him.”

“I suppose.” Alice was looking a little wistfully at her parchment now. “I should ask her to go to lunch or something, shouldn't I? After exams, of course...”

“Speaking of exams,” Sirius said, showing up out of nowhere and settling in front of us at our table in the Gryffindor common room. “Evans, would you give me a hand with this Potions essay?”

“Since when do you write essays?”

Sirius looked wounded. “I always write essays! How do you think I've managed to maintain my _perfect_ grades?”

“Sexual favors, mostly,” Alice replied.

“Well, yeah, but Slughorn's said if I don't turn this one in he'll actually _punish_ me, and I'd hate to see what he has in mind...”

“No,” I said, frowning. “That's bollocks. You're planning something.”

“What?” Sirius looked shocked at the accusation. “I'd never--Evans, you wound me! I'd never take advantage of your kindness in order to hide something from you!”

“What is it? What are you lot doing? Spill.”

“I just want to know how to make Draught of Living Death so it _doesn't_ kill you, to be honest...”

“Sirius Black,” I said. “Just tell me, or I'll coerce it out of James later.”

“I could out-coerce you when it comes to James, I think.”

“Not if I use my tongue.”

“Dis _gusting_ , Evans,” Sirius said. “That's my _best mate_. Have some _dignity_.”

“Why are you trying to distract us?” Alice asked.

“I'm not,” Sirius said, grinning toothily.

“Bollocks,” I said again.

But Sirius had already looked over at the portrait hole, which was just closing.

“Ah, I've got to go,” he said, patting me on the head as he stood. “Tally ho, Evans.”

“Tally--what?”

Sirius winked at me before returning to his dormitory.

“What d'you think that was all about?” Alice said, but the words were barely out of her mouth when there was a loud bang just outside the common room.

The Gryffindors within the room fell silent, and it was a mark of how dangerous times had gotten that none of them looked excited to discover what had made the noise.

“Bloody Marauders,” I mumbled, pushing open the portrait hole.

Despite having predicted a prank, even I was shocked by the new décor: the corridor was covered in the emerald green of Slytherin House, and mounted upon the walls were massive images of various members of the Slytherin Quidditch team in compromising positions. These included even Regulus Black, who was passed out asleep with likenesses of male genitalia drawn all over his face, and Theodore Nott, whose image had been manipulated so that it looked like he was very much turned on by a unicorn during Care of Magical Creatures.

The Gryffindors within the common room had started to peek out curiously, with some of them pushing past me to get a closer look at some of the posters. Most burst out laughing, and one third year was even tearing up.

“They're brilliant,” a fourth year I vaguely remembered giving a few detentions to was saying. “They're absolute geniuses--I want to be just like them.”

Good thing he wouldn't be my problem in just a few weeks.

“What do you think?” James asked me, appearing suddenly beside the portrait hole.

“Are you returning to the scene of the crime? Isn't that a big no-no?”

“What crime?” James said innocently. “I was just having a pee in the downstairs bathroom, and I come back up here and the Slytherins have vandalized the walls outside our common room with their hideous faces...”

“You know, this is all well and good for fostering team spirit--”

“You've got to have the eighth man,” James said, as if that meant anything to me.

“--but it's not really going to bother the Slytherins if it's all the way over here.”

“Oh, isn't it?” James said, eyes twinkling. “I suppose we'll just have to see...let's go to dinner, shall we?”

“Yeah, all right,” I said, though I was very suspicious, especially when James led me down a somewhat convoluted path, stopping only to toss his Invisibility Cloak over us.

“Is this necessary?” I asked. “We're only going to dinner--unless you're trying to sneak me out, and honestly, James, I don't have time to go to Hogsmeade--”

“Oh, stop complaining, Lil,” he said. “We're just going to see some more of the vandals' handiwork.”

“What else did you--”

“Not I, Lily, the _vandals_.”

He pulled me down another corridor and down a few flights of stairs until we'd reached the hallway in front of the Slytherin common room.

Here, rather than having the walls covered in green fabric, the Marauders had simply magnified a single poster, making it so large that it would be impossible to miss by anyone walking down the corridor, let alone someone exiting the Slytherin common room.

“Not quite as effective,” I said. “Sorry, Potter, you'll have to try harder next time.”

“ _Look_ ,” James said impatiently, and I obliged; as I watched, the poster--already animated, as wizard photography was wont to be--shifted, becoming another member of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

“Not bad,” I said, somewhat impressed.

“Too bad they're all inside,” James said. “The little photographs shout insults at any Slytherin who walks by--imagine one of them insulting himself!”

“How'd you manage to make it Slytherin-specific?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” James said. “I only bore witness to the genius of these posters a few minutes ago when I was coming back from the loo.”

“You're terrible and I hate you.”

James kissed me, then, and I didn't hate him, not really, not anymore.

“Dinner,” I reminded him, and he laughed, gave me his very best “I know I'm bloody brilliant” grin, and let me drag him to the Great Hall.

*

Dumbledore's face was grave on Wednesday night. He looked more tired than I'd ever seen him, and he pinched the bridge of his nose wearily before he started to speak.

“We can anticipate their locations,” he said, speaking, naturally, about the students who'd fled Hogwarts. “We know--almost definitively--that there will be some kind of meeting at a pub in Knockturn Alley. Now, we can't send too many of you, because that would be risky, but two of you would be reasonable enough.” He surveyed us as if looking for volunteers.

“I'll go,” Sirius said almost immediately. I glanced at him, and it was clear that he was thinking of his brother, who was one of the students who'd disappeared. “I'm--tired of doing research.”

Dumbledore watched him for a moment, frowning slightly. “Yes, all right.” He turned back to the rest of us, and this time it was Benjy Fenwick who volunteered.

“I'm small and clever and fast,” he said. “Not to mention I'm not nearly as--” he paused, blushed a little “--as high-profile as everyone else. No one will notice me.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Nevertheless--you'll both have to Transfigure some of your facial features and perhaps work on changing your voices.” He looked rather pointedly at Sirius.

“When do you want us to go?”

“Saturday,” he replied. “Come to my office after the Quidditch match.”

Sirius nodded once. There was a strange set to his mouth, like a sneer but somehow more vicious, and as we left I heard James ask him if he was sure under his breath.

“Course I'm sure,” Sirius said, but the set of his mouth didn't change.

James ran a hand through his hair. “Only, if you think one of us should--”

“Don't be stupid. He's my brother.”

They were walking faster than the rest of us, a few steps ahead, and Benjy Fenwick was next to me, looking a little terrified.

“You'll be fine,” I said in what I hoped was a soothing voice.

“I know,” he said. “I just--I've never done this before.”

“Sirius will take care of you.”

“That's not it. It's just--it's exciting, isn't it?”

“What?”

“Just--being able to actually do something! Make a difference! I'm a Muggle-born, Lily--this is what I've always wanted to be able to do, so no one has to deal with this anymore. It's--well, it's empowering, isn't it?”

“I suppose,” I said, and it _was_ \--I couldn't believe I'd veered away from that path for so long. It wasn't that my fear hadn't been warranted--it was more that my lack of bravery in the face of that fear had been appalling.

Still, I thought as Benjy caught up to Sirius and asked him a question and James dropped back to sling an arm around my shoulders, I'd give up the Order and everything if it meant I could have my parents back.

*

“I'm about ready to play this match, myself,” James said, picking some Drooble's gum out of his hair. “I'm about sick of having these thick Slytherins try to play clever jokes on me...”

“At least your hair can't look any worse, mate,” Sirius said, performing a very complicated-looking charm that only removed a very small piece of the gum from James's hair.

“Stop it, you're going to ruin it-- _stop_ , it has a very delicate balance between messy and sexy! _Pad_ foot!”

Marly snorted, blowing out a lungful of smoke and flipping to the next page of her Transfiguration textbook. “If you two don't shut up, I'm moving. This exam is in _one week_...”

“Yeah, well, Quidditch is in _one day_ ,” James said. “Don't be late to practice, McKinnon, or you're off the team.”

“It's my _last match_ , James, honestly...”

“Exactly. So Gryffindor don't suffer from losing you, but you also get to feel the shame of getting kicked off.”

“So cruel, Potter...”

“I need a different book,” I announced. “If I spend one more _second_ reading this awful prose I'm going to throw up.”

“What are you studying?”

“Human Transfiguration.”

Sirius snorted, but turned it into a cough when James glared at him. “There's, er--a whole section on that, actually,” Sirius said. “Row twelve in the restricted section.”

“Cheers,” I said.

“Why do you know that?” I heard Marly ask suspiciously as I left the table.

Laughing a little, I found the section Sirius had mentioned; I was fairly certain the Transfiguration practical would have us turning ourselves into inanimate objects, and I wasn't sure I had the spell completely right just yet.

“Evans!”

I turned; there was Snape, looking slimy as ever.

“What do you want?”

“Remember my offer,” he said, referring, I was sure, to his request that I join the Death Eaters and stun them all with my potion-making skills.

“Voldemort killed my parents,” I said flatly.

“Last chance, Mudblood,” he said. “You don't want to be on the losing side.”

“What do you care?”

“Let's just say I don't think your talents should go to waste.”

“Piss off,” I replied, choosing a book at random and turning away in what I hoped was a dignified manner.

I sat back down at our table, where Sirius and James were now enchanting bits of parchment on which they'd doodled figures of the Slytherin Quidditch team doing vulgar and disgusting things to fly around the library. I felt thoroughly shaken--I had no illusions about what Snape wanted. He wanted a potion-making partner--there was something a little sad in that, like he didn't want school to end just yet. But worse than that...he thought Lord Voldemort would just accept a Mudblood into his ranks. It struck me how terribly hypnotized the Dark Lord seemed to have his followers. Me, a Death Eater--me, the child of a schoolteacher and a dentist. Imagine that.

*

Saturday came at long last.

It was strange: James had hardly touched his breakfast, though he was downing glasses of water very quickly and fidgeting almost absentmindedly. He looked nervous, which was odd, because even before an Order mission or before any other match James would just have this look of quiet determination and a glint of confidence in his eyes, but right now he was positively biting his fingernails.

“We have to go,” he announced, standing at once and scanning the Gryffindor table for the rest of the team.

“Good luck,” I whispered, standing to kiss him on the mouth, but even then he seemed not fully there.

The air at the Quidditch pitch was electric. “Symbolic,” Remus had said the match was, and sitting between him and Alice now I was certain that he'd been correct. The Slytherins and the Gryffindors were looking at each other with such contempt that I was half-dreading they'd give up on the game altogether and just fight each other.

“AND THEY'RE OFF!” bellowed the commentator after the captains had “shaken hands”--or, rather, glared at each other, squeezed each other's fingers, and then shot back into position.

Gryffindor took an early lead, but Slytherin quickly caught up, and then somewhere in the middle there was a mess of fouls--Beaters giving up on Bludgers and using their bats to attack Chasers, the Seekers grabbing onto each other's brooms to slow one another down, and, once, the Slytherin Keeper shooting upward to prevent the Gryffindor Seeker from diving toward the Snitch. He'd given up a penalty for that one, but his team clapped him on the back for it anyway, and then Slytherin caught up nevertheless.

James called for a time out not long after this equalizer, and from our vantage point we could see him shouting at his players, though he clapped them all on the back before the game resumed and even quickly hugged the Seeker, whispering something in his ear.

I didn't know what he said, but Gryffindor proceeded to take a forty point lead and--before any of us realized what was happening--Ravi caught the Snitch and held it high above his head, beaming, before the rest of the team tackled him, their weight eventually sinking all of them to the ground as the entirety of Gryffindor House--myself included, Head Girlship be damned--stormed the pitch in celebration.

At the party afterward, the high was contagious: warmth and pure, unbridled happiness radiated from James's body--and when, after a few drinks, he gripped me to him, still sweaty from the match, and kissed me, I did not resist. And when he pushed aside the portrait hole to our private quarters and dragged off my shirt, instead of resisting, I helped him unbutton my skirt, pausing only to let him kiss my neck.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love _you_ ,” I said.

And then everything went to shit.

*

By late afternoon, we knew two things for certain:

The first was that Regulus Black was indeed a full-fledged Death Eater.

The second was that Benjy Fenwick was in Death Eater custody.

*

It happened like this, Sirius said:

They'd gone to the shady pub Dumbledore had sent them to, faces so Transfigured that they were barely recognizable, and they'd gotten drinks and pretended to talk about some new anti-Muggle-born legislation their pretend-fathers (and Sirius's actual father, probably) were supporting.

It had worked fine: Benjy had very dutifully taken notes on everything the Death Eaters had said (courtesy of one of Sirius's handy little charms, which made the Death Eaters' voices clearer; Sirius held the notes in a vicelike grip as he recounted this story), while being hidden by Sirius's body. Sirius, meanwhile, was playing his part fairly convincingly, especially seated as he was, facing away from the Death Eaters. The way Sirius told the story, if he'd been facing them, everyone would have happened much sooner and our current dilemma would not be finding Benjy but rather finding a way to tell his parents what had happened to him.

But then Regulus had ordered a drink--a drink that happened to be the very same one Sirius had gotten--and Benjy had said, “Go back, I've got this.”

But Sirius was rash and reckless and never thought before acting and instead had said, “No, I've got it.”

It had all fallen apart when Regulus started listing names: Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew. James Potter. Lily Evans. Marlene McKinnon.

Sirius had swung around so quickly that Benjy could not stop him, and so instead Benjy had coughed loudly, called the barkeep over so they could have an excuse for Sirius's sudden motion, but it had been too late, because Regulus had already caught sight of Sirius's Transfigured face and--and they were brothers and they'd grown up together and Regulus would recognize him _anywhere_ \--

“Sirius,” Sirius said Regulus had said, and then without even being able to put up a fight the Death Eaters had all of them in their grips.

He'd been held by a spell from Regulus, and Regulus--this Sirius spat--had thought it might be nice to _save_ him, and now Benjy was gone and Sirius was angry and Dumbledore did not meet his eyes.

The problem was that there was an unbridled, almost reckless confidence in all of us. Gryffindor had just won the Quidditch Cup and were looking sharp for the House Cup and all of us were happy despite the very present worry for Benjy. Marlene was a little tipsy, and James and I were wrapped in a post-coital haze, and if there had been anyone else available Dumbledore would not have done it but we may have gone anyway.

He'd wanted to send Doge and Diggle, maybe, and Bode, maybe Sirius because he knew what was going on, but the older members of the Order were all busy with their official jobs or taking care of their families or other missions.

I'd never seen Dumbledore look as tense and worried as he did when he made our Portkey, but he insisted that he trusted us, because, McGonagall said (relaying his message as he stared into his Pensieve, deep in thought and seemingly not paying much attention to us), “You're the brightest witches and wizards of your year, the cleverest, the bravest, and you're a part of the Order for a reason.”

And that was fine. We were confident despite Dumbledore's worries; the members of the Quidditch team were sky-high, and I was finally content with all my relationships. The mission seemed straightforward: take the Portkey to the location Regulus's Trace had reappeared in, rescue Benjy, get out.

But we--Dorcas, Marlene, Emmeline, Remus, Sirius, James, and I--were transported not to some dark dungeon or deserted room, but to a very visible floor on the inside of a house. That was when our poorly-thought out plan started to go wrong.

We were Disillusioned, of course, but the presence of seven new people in a room filled with wizards had not gone unnoticed; it was Bellatrix Lestrange who turned toward us first, followed closely by Lucius Malfoy and two other masked Death Eaters. The rest of the table followed their lead.

And then, filling my stomach with dread, Lord Voldemort himself turned toward us.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice high-pitched and terrifying as always. “If it isn't Dumbledore's lackeys, here to rescue their tetchy Mudblood. Reveal yourselves.”

None of us made to remove the spell, though I felt James shift beside me as he raised his wand in preparation of battle.

“Very well,” Voldemort said, sounding bored. He waved his own wand, and there was the bizarre feeling of the spell lifting off me before a terrifying smile twisted his features. “He's sent _children_. Dumbledore's great army, just seventeen year olds...”

“I wouldn't underestimate seventeen year olds, my lord,” Malfoy said, his glittering grey eyes surveying us warily. “After all, you've met these before... think what we've heard about these particular students from Severus...”

He raised his wand, but he was not fast enough: “STUPEFY!” shouted Marlene, and Lucius Malfoy shot backward, head backing against the wall with a sickening thud.

That was when all hell broke loose. A Death Eater I didn't recognize aimed his wand at me, but I was too fast for him. “Protego! Stupe--”

But he, too, cut me off with a shield spell, before aiming another hex at me. This went on for much too long until, finally, I took a risk and shot a leg-lock spell at his ankles before disarming him. Only then did I look around at everyone else--there was James, shooting spell after spell at Bellatrix seemingly without stopping for breath, and Dorcas dueling Regulus and another Death Eater at once, Sirius fighting off yet another Death Eater, and Marlene dueling _Voldemort_ of all people.

He was saying something, too, perhaps taunting her, but I couldn't make out his words through all the melee, though hers were very clear: “You can _never_ win,” she spat, sending a jet of red light straight at his chest, but he deflected and she shot a stream of fire at him--

“LILY, MOVE!” shouted James, and I looked up just in time to shield myself from another Death Eater's curse.

“Thanks, Potter,” I said. “Stupef--”

“Protego!” the Death Eater retaliated, and the anticipation of my actions was getting ridiculous.

Wordless magic was hardly something I was spectacular at but I, at the very least, had spent weeks practicing in my room by night. I made a slashing motion through the air with my wand, willing the Death Eater to change--

And he did. His body had become a chair, a simple, harmless, straight-backed wooden chair. Triumphantly, I turned to shoot a spell at Voldemort myself.

“Nice one, Lily!” Sirius called, apparently having seen my tricky bit of Transfiguration.

And then several things happened at once:

Marlene noticed a Death Eater about to attack James from behind and threw a shield up to protect him;

Sirius ditched the Death Eater he was dueling to tackle his brother to the ground, giving up on magic and proceeding to swing fist after fist at Regulus's face;

James disarmed Bellatrix and proceeded to attempt to stun her while she was wandless;

I aimed for Voldemort's chest because if I could kill him now everything would be over;

And Voldemort, noticing Marlene's momentary distraction, said with none of the bravado that should have been necessary for such an occasion, “Avada Kedavra!”

The scarlet Quidditch robes Marlene still hadn't changed out of billowed beneath her as she fell, and I thought wildly for a moment that with her recently-dyed hair and those robes, she looked like fire. Someone was howling behind me--Sirius, it must have been--but that was nothing, _nothing_ , compared to my insides, which were on fire too, burning up into ash.

Nothing mattered anymore, nothing, and that was when I realized that the anguished sobbing, the insane, rabid screaming, was coming from me, and James seized me around the waist, held me to him, pressed my head into his neck, and I could not stop myself from screaming even as he tried to muffle it with his other hand aiming spells at Death Eaters.

“Shh, shh,” he said, but it didn't matter, and I was shocked to find that the hot tears on his face had come not from my eyes but his, and he mourned for Marly even as he comforted me, hands shaking, and Sirius was screaming incantations, and I was not surprised to hear his howls of “Crucio! Crucio!”

But they didn't matter--nothing mattered--and then the air grew tight around me as James pressed my hand to a Portkey, and the two of us and Sirius collapsed on the floor in Dumbledore's office.

Sirius was still howling, though now his wand clattered to the floor and rolled under the desk. My throat was raw and dry, but that hardly mattered, because Marlene McKinnon, my very best friend, the girl who had loved me and given me advice and listened to all of my complaints over the years and, once, accidentally poisoned me, was now lying on a floor surrounded by Death Eaters and terribly, awfully _dead_.

Someone was talking beside me--James, it must have been--explaining what had happened to Dumbledore, and Sirius was pacing very rapidly, sparks shooting out of the end of his wand, and Dorcas and Emmeline and Remus were still there, and Marlene was dead.

Dumbledore must have seen how broken we all were, because he looked at his feet apologetically. “I am sorry,” he said, and it did not matter.

 

**A/N:** Marlene's line to Voldemort, “You can never win,” was inspired by and is a tribute to _Things Unsaid_ by Shadowed Shinobi on FF.net.

One more (shortish) chapter to tie up loose ends. I have an epilogue written that I may or may not post.

If you like my writing, please check out “Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Story,” which is mostly written and will be updated every other week or so.

Thanks for sticking with me.


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

_“To love another person is to see the face of God.”_

Les Miserables, Schönberg

Emmeline, Dorcas, and Remus stayed behind to keep looking, but Sirius, James, and I had left, joined by Dumbledore, who extracted the full story from us in his office and then sent us all to the hospital wing for sleeping draughts.

*

They only found bits of him.

I learned this later, after the vigil.

They found his pinky and his glasses on the floor. His shoes. A Hufflepuff scarf.

James shook his head. “We didn't save him. It was all for nothing.”

Somehow that made everything worse.

*

Before the vigil, though, before we learned that it had all been for naught, before Alice and I got into the Auror program and before we left the school forever, we had to take exams.

Dumbledore canceled everything he could, but as seventh years we still had to take the N.E.W.T.s.

“It doesn't matter,” James kept saying. “If Moody has any say in it, we'll get accepted to the Auror program regardless.”

“How can you study at a time like this?” he asked me once, as I practiced Transfiguring his face.

“Lily, you can barely Stun a mouse—Lily, what are you doing?”

I felt lost, empty. There was nothing I could do but force myself to study. There was no reason to exist other than this, other than passing these exams, getting into the Auror program, and killing Lord Voldemort.

It was not the same sort of fiery passionate rebellion that had occupied me before Marlene was murdered in front of me. I did not want to save anyone. I did not want to avenge anyone. I simply wanted to snap Lord Voldemort's neck. He had wasted too much of the planet's oxygen simply by existing upon it. He had destroyed my family. He was destroying my friends. It was an icy sort of hatred, and it was all I could think about.

N.E.W.T.s went fine.

“I couldn't Transfigure the cat,” Peter said when we left the Transfiguration practical. I couldn't remember cats even being in the room.

I thought I might have failed all the written portions of my exams, because I couldn't remember those either, but James told me he saw me furiously scribbling something on my parchment during the Charms written and so I must written something.

Sirius skipped exams altogether. I had never seen anyone go from the constant sociability of Sirius Black to the cold slab of human that had replaced him. He no longer sat with us in the evenings. He seemed to barely spend any time with the Marauders. They came back after the last full moon of term all injured, and Sirius did not speak to anyone. I barely saw him anymore. I asked James about him, and James only looked away sadly.

A part of me wanted to enjoy the last week I had at Hogwarts, which was the cap on an altogether terrible year but seven years that had been beyond my wildest dreams. But there was no point in celebrating without Marlene, because she was the fun one. There was no point in doing anything without Marlene. Instead of celebrating with the rest of the seventh years—albeit not the ones who had known Marlene or Benjy very well—I packed my clothes and drank alone.

I found Sirius in an empty classroom I'd returned to in the hopes I would be able to find one of my favorite quills. He was sitting at Marlene's usual desk, staring absently out the window and smoking a cigarette.

“Marly hated this brand of cigarettes,” he said. “She always said they made me taste like death. But all cigarettes taste like death. I suppose she tastes like death now.”

“That's—twisted,” I said, sitting in the seat next to him.

“Evans, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—” He paused, closed his eyes. “We're all going to die, aren't we? And it'll be in vain?”

“Of course not.”

“There are too many of them and too few of us. And they're always one step ahead of us. They have all the money, all the respected pure bloods … we've got a disowned Black and a few Muggle-borns.”

“And the greatest wizard of all time,” I reminded him.

“They have an army of werewolves. We have _Remus_ , who is a formidable wizard and a terrifying wolf, but one man can't defeat an army.”

“Do you want a drink?”

“What?”

“Do you want a drink?”

“Is the Head Girl offering me an illicit beverage in an empty classroom?”

“She is indeed.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said, and took the proffered flask. He drained it, and I did not regret giving it to him.

*

I sent my potion to Petunia via an owl with a short message: _Please accept this as a token of appreciation at my disownment. I am better off without such a toxic presence in my life_. And, even though she wouldn't understand what it meant, I added, _Marlene McKinnon was more of a sister to me than you will ever be._

Perhaps one day, when I was older and more mature, I would forgive her. But I was eighteen and empty, and I had not.

*

James woke me up once in the middle of the night. He was not crying; he was merely sitting still on his side of the bed, staring at his hands.

“James?” I said, my voice thick from potion-induced sleep.

“She died trying to save my life.”

“She died _saving_ your life.”

“Still,” James said. “It's my fault.”

“It's Voldemort's fault.”

“Voldemort is—”

“Yes,” I said.

“What?”

“I'll marry you.”

“ _What_?”

“Let's get married.”

“What, now? What's changed?”

I did not say what I was thinking: _I want to marry you before I die_. I did not say, _I want to marry you before you die_. I did not say, _I want the rest of our friends to be alive to see us married_. Nothing had changed, except my willingness to acquiesce. But I did not say any of that. 

Instead, I said, “I love you, and it would make you happy, and we all deserve more happiness in our lives.”

“Would it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“It would also make you—it would also make you my next-of-kin. So if anything—if anything happened to me—someone needs to take care of the lads.”

“The lads?”

But I knew who he was talking about: the disowned son of blood purists. The werewolf. The small, timid one.

“And I need someone to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don't want that money to go to someone else. I want it to go to you, so you can help fund the Order and make sure Remus gets fed. I can't—Lily, I love you, but it was never not the pragmatic choice to make.”

“I love you too, you idiot,” I said, and kissed him.

“Lily,” James said. “You really don't think it was my fault?”

“It was Voldemort's fault. And we're going to kill him.”

It surprised me how free of emotion my voice was. It was flat determination. Sheer anger.

“Take the rest of my sleeping potion,” I said, and when James sank into sleep I lay next to him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and letting its constance comfort me.

*

The vigil took place instead of the end of term feast, and as I made my way to it, hand in hand with James and arm in arm with Sirius, I could not help but feel a slight tinge of nostalgia intermingled with the ice inside my gut.

It was strange, I thought, how small Hogwarts seemed now. Before, when I'd been elevena nd hadn't known a Quaffle from a cauldron, Hogwarts had seemed massive, its hallways a never-ending labyrinth of moving staircases and hidden rooms, but now … now it was small, cozy, now I knew every corridor as well as my own bedroom at home. There were still its secrets, sure, but there was something very comforting about being able to sneak in and out of the castle without having to refer to a map or ask someone for directions, or about being able to get to class without being redirected by a moving staircase six times.

The vigil included a thousand candles, red for Marly and black for Benjy, gold for Marlene's friends and family and yellow for Benjy's.

Dumbledore gave some sort of a speech, but I was not listening. I was too busy surveying the students in attendance: all of the Hufflepuffs, all of the Gryffindors, all of the Ravenclaws, and a surprising amount of the Slytherins had showed up. None of the ones that were truly evil, none of the ones that had been partially responsible for their deaths, and perhaps that was a sign of respect, that they hadn't shown up even to mock them.

I did not cry. Sirius did, swiped angry tears from his eyes, and once James clutched my hand so hard I thought he'd broken my fingers, but I did not cry.

*

Later, after Dumbledore had delivered the news about Benjy and after James broke his knuckles on the wall next to Dumbledore's office, Sirius and I Apparated to the McKinnon home to pay our final respects to her and her family.

Most of the McKinnons had been dead for months. Marlene had been the last one. They'd singlehandedly wiped out one of the most promising Wizarding families in Britain, and I wanted them all dead. I twisted the ring around my finger.

Severus Snape had told me that he didn't want me to be on the losing side.

Severus Snape was an evil, slimy little git, but Severus Snape would get what he wanted.

Because I wasn't on the losing side.

“We're going to beat them,” I said to Sirius. “There are only a few of us, but we have something they don't.”

“What's that?” Sirius said. His voice was faint.

I looked up at the sky, at the way the Dark Mark leered over the McKinnon home, and something twisted in my stomach that felt strangely like triumph. It took me a moment to figure it out: determination.

“Gryffindors,” I said. “Sheer dumb bravery. And Ravenclaws. Brilliance. And Hufflepuffs. Loyalty. And Slytherins, too—slyness. The ability to wriggle out of traps.”

“You're saying we have Hogwarts.”

“I'm saying we have _us_.”

And I was going to be the end of Lord Voldemort if it killed me.

  
_fin_   



End file.
